


The Journey

by omentastic



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2018-07-16 11:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 64,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7266079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omentastic/pseuds/omentastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on The Hound's character from the television series but deviating from the original storylines. Esther Stark, a Moontide Sister with more than a passing acquaintance with Darkness and Ned's youngest sister, goes to King's Landing to rescue her nieces and then the real journey begins.This starts just after Ned's death and continues. I posted this a while ago but then abandoned it; season 6 has rekindled my love of The Hound.</p>
<p>I have a weakness for delayed or thwarted passion so it's a sloooooooow burn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She heard it before she felt it; the sword slicing through the air and the thud of the blade landing into the flesh of her brother’s neck. Time slowed and the candlelight flickered for an instant but the scream of the woman in labour brought her back to the present. She smiled to herself as she remembered her Mother Superior’s words ‘You do the job in front of you and everything else can boil in the pan’. She sighed and returned to the struggling woman and her as yet unborn daughter.

 

Esther Stark emerged from the tavern and breathed in the clear, night air. It was a damn sight clearer and more palatable than the stale, beer soaked smog she’d just come from. Gods knew what her mother would have said if she could have seen her youngest daughter rubbing elbows with the great unwashed, birthing whore’s bastards in the arse end of nowhere; but of course her mother would never have used such language.  
She thought back to the image she had seen in the tiny upstairs room not so long ago and sighed again. She had known that it would be happening before the Winter finally dug its claws into the land and people but she had hoped she would have had a bit more time. It was time for her to make the long journey to the city she had avoided for so long and fulfil her destiny; gods how she hated that word but it was all she had heard for the first 8 years she had been learning her craft at the convent after Mother Superior had finally realised who and what she was. For the 6 years she had been out in the world it was all she could think of, even during the times when her life had been in danger or she had been dealing with the plagues that had swept through the towns and villages she ministered to, or the hundred and one other everyday triumphs and tragedies she had witnessed; all that time had seemed to be a countdown to this moment and now it had arrived the relief she hoped she would feel was nowhere to be found, she just felt the raging anger grow.

She supposed she should have felt sadness about her brother’s brutal death far away in King’s Landing but after many years the blow he had dealt her when she was 10 years old still bit deep and the vague knowledge of what was to come dulled the possibility of grief. She heard the tavern door bang and turned to look at the beefy face of the landlord, twice her age and twice her width but still cowering like a child facing a mother’s wrath.

“Er…Er here is 7 coins for your..er…trouble…Sister” he stammered and proffered his huge paw with the coins nestling in the giant palm like stars in a very grubby night sky. She thought about prolonging the man’s misery, he was, after all, a whore mongerer, but she had neither the time nor the inclination. She took the offered coin but could not leave without giving the man a small word of advice.

“Thank you for the payment but be warned when I return, and I shall return, if your whores are not better looked after and your beer less sour I will make your balls shrivel like walnuts and your cock wither like rotting fruit.”

The landlord’s face screwed itself up into a rictus of fear.

“Yes…yes…of course Sister. Thank you Sister.” he managed to stammer.

“Good. Now can you direct me to the King’s Road? Oh and it’s Mistress not Sister.” Esther said, already looking beyond the terrified man and into the moonlit landscape. It would be a long time before she was back at this gods-forsaken place but she knew the landlord would never again mistreat his whores or his customers again. She may have been young for a Sister of the Moontides but the red belt, the moon trio tattoo and, most importantly, her reputation that preceded her ensured that no one dared cross her.

She hefted her bag onto her shoulder and set off in the direction the terrified man had pointed, safe in the knowledge that should anyone be stupid enough to attack her they would be left with a serious handicap for the rest of their miserable yet thankfully short lives.

The landlord went back inside the tavern, carefully closed the door, wiped the sweat of fear from his face and never again abused his workers or cheated his customers and considered himself very lucky to have escaped with his life and manhood intact.

 

Esther tried to shift into a more comfortable position as the cart rocked and rattled its way towards the city. She took out the black rolling papers and tobacco from the special, leather pouch a grateful father had made her after she had saved his son’s leg. As she assembled the smoke, she looked to skyline and saw the city getting closer. She felt the anger rise again as she thought of what she might find inside the walls; she had heard about the poverty, starvation and disease that was already rife amongst the ordinary people and the less obvious but more poisonous rot she would find amongst the new King’s court. The stories of his viciousness were already filtering through the towns and villages outside of the sprawling city walls. She struck a match and dragged deeply on the cigarette, she blew out a plume of grey and tried to get comfortable again.

Before the cart reached the North gate she hopped down and thanked the driver. He refused to take the money she offered in exchange for the ride as she knew he would; no-one charged a Sister because you never knew when you might need one and you only needed their help if you were desperate; the cart driver also had the feeling that this Sister in particular was not the kind that you tried to take advantage of. He watched as she walked off the road and into the scrubby woodland that flanked the road, the red of her belt and hair standing out against the dark of her clothes, finally blending into the shadows until she was gone. She never looked back and he shook the horse’s reins and rumbled on a little faster than was necessary, eager to be away from the woman he had travelled the last half of the road with.

Esther did her best to shake out the creases from the only dress she owned. It would be easier if she blended in with the crowds inside the city and the uniform of the Moontide Sisters was as easily recognisable as the armour of the King’s Guard. She repacked her bag and set off towards the gate and into the city. The gate guards did not give her a second glance, just another peasant trying to escape the war that had been inevitable the moment Robert Baratheon had drawn his last breath.

She walked through the packed and crowded streets dodging the filth and grime that caked the pathways towards the house of the only person she knew in King’s Landing but also towards the future that had been a long time coming.

She found the Street of the Tanners and couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose at the stench from the many tanneries. She understood why her Sister had chosen to live here, no one would come down this street unless they really had to, but she wondered how Rellet could bear it. The noise of the city was already hitting the pain threshold even though it was still early; shouts, screams, children crying, hammers on anvils, animals bleating and squawking, the whole orchestra of humanity playing out all around her. She side-stepped a pool of piss and searched for the house with the red star over the door, well hidden of course, you would only find it if you knew what you were looking for. She knocked the peeling and cracked door and tried not to breath.

Rellet opened the door and ushered Esther into the marginally more quiet and fragrant front room. As her eyes adjusted to the relative gloom she saw the tools of both their trades laid out on a well scrubbed table, a pot bubbling over the fire and a man with his trousers round his ankles, his eyes wide with fear and dread.

“Go through to the back, I’ll come when I’ve finished lancing Torn’s boils.” said Rellet.

Esther made her way through the dark passageway, aware of the many small pairs of eyes of the children Rellet employed to help her watching through the slats of the stairs. She smiled thinly as she heard Torn’s agonised scream and the hiss of a very hot blade on exposed skin; there was a man who would look more closely at where he was putting himself in the future. Esther sat on a chair and looked about her. This room was more homely than the previous with cupboards stuffed full of pottery and clothes, glittering shawls hanging from the walls, books and a huge bed carefully made up with the emphasis on comfort. Esther raised an eyebrow, remembering that she mostly slept in barns and under the stars; the city was obviously a more comfortable reward than the countryside. The sun shone through the wooden bars at the window and Esther relished the moment of peace, watching the dust motes dance in the light.

She raised her head as she heard Rellet walk down the passageway.

“So, the time has finally arrived has it?” Rellet asked with her usual bluntness, there was no room for pleasantries in their line of work and anyway they had never really got on at the convent.

“Yes.” Esther answered simply.

“As soon as I heard about your brother being made the King’s Hand I’ve been waiting for the raven. Do you know what the state of play is at court?” Rellet poured them both a drink and eyed Esther over the cup’s rim.

“I’ve got a vague idea. I was attending a birth when I saw…him…die. I started out for King’s Landing that night. I need to get into the Keep, my nieces are still in there; I’ll get them and then head for the North…”

“Neice” said Rellet interrupting Esther

“What?” Esther asked, annoyed at being stopped mid sentence.

“Neice not neices.” said Rellet, pleased to know something more than Esther for once, “one of the Stark girls escaped in the confusion after your brother’s death. The Queen has been going mad trying to find her. She tore the city apart but no trace of her could be found. I know she has sent hunting parties out but they’ve all come back empty handed. There’s only one left at court now, the older one.”

“Shite!” said Esther and began to roll another of her cigarettes, “Shite.”

Rellet watched as the younger woman lit the black cigarette from a candle. She had got older, well they all had, but she hadn’t changed much since their training days at the convent. She thought back to when Esther had first arrived at the gates on the back of horse behind a soldier all the way from Winterfell (she had hated riding even then) screaming and fighting. She’d have only been 10 and she behaved like a newly trapped Wildling. The soldier had hauled her off the horse, virtually thrown the girl at Mother Superior and galloped off the way he had come. That anger that had boiled in Esther like barley pearl in a stew was still there.

Mother Superior asked Rellet and a few of the older girls to help get Esther clean and into her novice clothes. Rellet could still hear the screams of the girl as they had plunged her into the bath water and scrubbed away at the dirt and grime. She’d bit and scratched and used language that the sheltered Rellet had never heard of and all the time the Mother Superior had talked to the girl in her calm way, never getting angry and never raising her voice. When Esther was clean and in her new robes she was presented to the rest of the convent; Mother Superior had explained that she was the last daughter of House Stark and they should be kind to her. Rellet watched as the little girl glowered at them all from under her cloud of newly washed red hair, it was clear that she hated them all.

That night in the novices’ dormitory Rellet was awake when she saw the new girl get out of bed, get dressed, climb out of the widow and drop to the ground far below. She ran to watch the tiny figure make her way to the gate only to be stopped by the Mother Superior who had been waiting for her. She heard the girl’s scream of rage and saw the bright flash of blue light that had leapt from her hand aimed at the Mother Superior. Rellet nearly cried out herself but saw the Mother Superior calmly deflect the light into the ground and that was when the little girl, so angry, had stopped screaming and watched the Mother Superior like a cat watches its prey. Rellet saw the Mother Superior bend down and whisper into the little girl’s ear, grasp her hand and walk back into the convent.

After that night Rellet had avoided Esther just like all the other novices and most of the other nuns as well. She had the idea that Esther preferred it that way. When she was out of the room all the other novices would talk about her, any new knowledge of this strange and dangerous girl was treated like a message from the gods themselves. One girl who was from the North had said that Lord Eddard Stark had sent his youngest sister away because she had killed someone, another had said that she was the Shard Witch reborn, another had said that the new Lord of Winterfell’s young wife had sent her young sister-in-law away because she was afraid of what she would do to her newborn son, another had said that when Esther had been born the thick snow had formed into a giant direwolf that howled for a day and a night. Rellet didn’t know what she believed but all she knew was that this new girl could do things that all of the other novices put together couldn’t master. Esther spent more time with the Mother Superior than anyone else and Rellet hated her. 

As the years passed and they got older it was clear that Esther was different from the other Sisters. Mother Superior never made her take the vows of the Sisterhood, never made her swear loyalty to the order and never sent her home. 

On the day that they were given their red belts and learned where they would be sent to fulfil their purpose Rellet was overjoyed to learn that she would be going to King’s Landing, she had never been to a big city. She ran over to the others to tell them of this great honour; she asked where Esther had been sent, determined to brag about her own fortune. When Esther replied that Mother Superior had allowed her to choose her own path, to go where the Seven winds blew her, Rellet nearly hit her. How dare she be granted such freedom, such unlicensed freedom to choose her own path? Rellet had looked at Esther with hatred and she saw that Esther knew this, knew what she was thinking. Esther had taken the bag that contained all she would ever need, given to all the new Sisters who were sent out, walked through the gates and into the woods; she had never looked back at the others whom she had lived with for the past 7 years and nobody had really cared anyway.

“So what do you need from me?” said Rellet, returning to the present.

“I need you to get me into the Keep and I need you to send this message to Mother Superior.” said Esther passing over a small roll of paper, tightly tied and sealed with a blob of red wax.

“Is that all?” asked Rellet with as much sarcasm as she dared.

“Yes.” replied Esther, seemingly oblivious to Rellet’s tone, she stubbed out her cigarette end on the ornately carved table, “oh and I’ll also need a respectable dress, a bath and 4 pouches of tobacco and as many rolling papers as you can find.”

“What?” said the outraged Rellet, “I can’t find all that!”

Esther stared at the stupid woman in front of her and narrowed her eyes. The sunny room darkened and the shadows thickened, an icy wind blew and whipped up the scarves, turned pages of the books and extinguished the candles. Rellet felt cold fingers wrap around her throat and arms and she was suddenly very frightened.

“I’ll…I’ll see to it immediately…Mistress.” whispered Rellet and staggered out of the room; the sooner this witch was out of her life the better.

Esther sat back in the chair as the light and warmth leaked back into the room. So she was already too late to get both her nieces. Well, she would get the older one as quickly as she could and leave this shit pit of a place before the sky burned and the towers fell. She idly wondered if she should tell Rellet about what was to come but the woman should know that her place was with the people the war would break first. To give her prior warning would be to condemn all the people she could help, condemn then to an even more painful end. No, better to let Rellet fulfil her purpose, whether that meant death or not.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, thank you so much for taking the time to read this. I'm also posting this elsewhere but wanted to try here out as well. Please let me know what you think if you can. I'm mostly using this story to fill in the gaps between episodes and I can't believe this season is nearly over already; my fanfic appetite will grow exponentially until season7!

Esther plaited her still damp hair and pinned it up. She was not looking forward to going into the lion’s den but she had no choice. She couldn’t leave without her niece; gods she couldn’t even remember the girl’s name. She’d never seen any of her nephews and nieces in real life except Robb and he had been a baby when she had been sent away. She’d heard when Ned had brought his bastard back and then, after she supposed Catelyn had forgiven him, the rest of them had been born. It had been a relief to know that even if some of the babies hadn’t made it there were enough of them to mean that she would never have to inherit the responsibilities of Winterfell. 

Benjen had escaped to the Wall and become a member of the Night’s Watch; she remembered the day he had gone, looking so fine on his horse and the rest of the family proud but puzzled at his choice to relinquish everything and go to a place where no one really returned from. She hadn’t had much to do with any of her brothers but Benjen had been the one to teach her how to trap animals, fire an arrow and use a knife. He’d been kind to her and spent time with her. Her mother, before they both had died, was only really interested in Esther’s sister, so beautiful and good at everything a lady should be. Esther was always too noisy, too dirty, too wayward and then, after the incident, too dangerous. 

She found her thoughts slipping back to the days before Robert’s Rebellion when her brothers and sister had been at home, her father still alive. Although Winter was still raging there had been laughter and her beautiful, beautiful sister had been there to tell her stories and sing to her and give her opportunities to escape Septa’s chidings and the interminable hours of lessons and sewing. She remembered her father, who never really knew what to do with his daughters and was always so harsh with his sons, sitting by the roaring fire surrounded by his dogs telling her about the land beyond the Wall and laughing hugely at her announcement that she would set out the next day to go and find a giant and bring him back to Winterfell. 

Those days had disappeared when then mad King had executed her father and then her brothers had gone off to fight and then her sister had been…taken, only to be returned in a closed coffin and buried in the crypt. When only Ned had returned he could barely bring himself to look at Esther and after the incident had packed her off to the convent far away across the water as soon as possible. How much she had hated him. And now here she was, in a city she loathed plotting to release his daughter from the nest of vipers that was the Westeros court and then onto… what? She had tried and tried to see what was coming but it was dark and shadowed. She had seen green fire on burning water, white figures in a snowstorm, a heart made of stone, a dog howling in the rain, the shadow of a wing on the sea and always a red woman laughing in the light of a bonfire. But these were just images, disjointed like a broken mirror, they made no sense. She had always known what was to come and now she felt blind.

She sighed again and laced up her boots; she may have to wear an uncomfortable and heavy dress, act like a lady and smile courteously for a short time but nothing in the world could make her part from her boots, they were part of her like her hand or her leg.

She stowed her bag in the eaves of Rellet’s house, nodded to the frightened woman and made her way towards the side gate of the Keep. She would work out the lay of the land before she made her move.

Esther watched as the servants unloaded a cart full of baskets and barrels. The guards were too busy making lewd comments to the maids as they carried the unloaded food to notice another one slip through the gateway and on into the courtyard.

She dumped the basket of apples by a well, grabbed the best looking fruit and wandered through the next gateway biting into the flesh as she went. She hadn’t expected it to be this easy but gods she was glad it had been; she was in no mood to have an altercation with anyone this early into her plan. She found herself in the training ground where men in armour were beating each other to a pulp with maces, axes and swords; clangs, shouts and screams filled the air.

“You! Bring me a drink!”

Esther ignored the request and skirted the three men lying on the ground gasping after what looked to be a particularly difficult training session. She looked up at the walls that faced the sea and was wondering which ways to head when she felt a mailed hand roughly grasp her shoulder and spin her round.

“I asked you to bring me that wine jug, bitch.”

She looked up at the huge figure that had blocked out the sun and who was now shouting. The glare shadowed everything but his shape, she could not make out any of his features but his hand was squeezing her shoulder too hard and she felt her ever present anger begin to rise.

“No, you asked for a drink, you weren’t specific. I chose to ignore you and…unless you can see something I can’t, I’m not a dog.” Esther said, aware that she had raised her voice but unable to stop it.

Suddenly the whole training yard had gone quiet, Esther could feel all the eyes of the men on her and the huge shape in front of her. He still had not let go of her shoulder and now he was squeezing it harder.

“I could kill you right now you fucking little whore and no one would give two shits. Get me that fucking wine jug.” The soldier’s voice was low and rasping but it still echoed around the now silent yard. Esther knew she should do what he said, she should keep a low profile, not get noticed, hells she’d only been in the Keep for a few moments but she couldn’t, just couldn’t back away from a challenge.

“Get it your fucking self.” Esther replied slowly and deliberately.

The man raised his other hand to strike her and she felt her hands begin to itch as the power she tried so hard to keep dammed up behind a wall flowed through her…burnhim burnhim burnthemall…

“Hound! What are you doing? The King’s asking for you!” said a voice that came from across the years.

The soldier lowered his hand but did not let go of her shoulder. She did not take her eyes off him but felt two men walk behind her.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said the King is asking for you.,” said the familiar voice again.

“Yeah, don’t play with your food.” another voice said.

The soldier dug his fingers into her shoulder again and then pushed her to one side and stalked off through the gate, grabbing the wine jug as he passed it.

“Are you hurt girl?” 

She knew she would have to turn round and face the man she had known so many years ago but she wanted just a few moments before her whole plan fell apart.

“Are you hur…fuck me”

“Hello short boy, or is it Lord Tyrion now?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for making it this far and sticking with it. I loved the scenes between Tyrion and Bronn...I miss them being together. Please let me know what you think if you can, even if it's to say it's derivative bollocks.

Esther almost burst out laughing at the dumbstruck face Tyrion was currently pulling. He looked like he was about to faint.

“Well? Aren’t you going to say hello?” said Esther suddenly uncomfortable in the lengthening silence. Tyrion shaded his eyes and looked at the taller man standing beside him who glanced around and nodded his head almost imperceptibly.

“I’m sorry, I mistook you for someone else.” said Tyrion and walked in the opposite direction with the taller man following him. It was Esther’s turn to look dumbstruck, she knew he had recognised her even after all these years, why had he walked off without acknowledging her?

At that moment there was a commotion in the opposite corner of the yard and Esther knew she had to get out of sight and plan what to do next.

Tyrion closed the door of his chambers behind him and collapsed into a chair.

“Who was that girl in the courtyard then?” asked Bronn eyeing Tyrion who was gulping down wine like it was water, “and why didn’t you want to be seen talking with her?”

Tyrion put the cup on the table and looked out of the window at the setting sun low on the sea’s horizon.

“Someone my dear sister must never know is here. Bronn, I need you to find her and bring her here without anyone seeing or hearing you. Can you do that for me?” he asked, seriously.

“I thought my days of getting girls for you was over” said Bronn.

“Please, just do this for me…and remember, no one must see you” said Tyrion still staring out of the window. Bronn was bright enough not to ask any more questions and quietly left the room. 

After he had left, Tyrion but his head in his hands and thought back to one of the best and worst days of his life.

Esther had found her way to the massive kitchens and was trying to look like she belonged. She didn’t know where to begin looking for her niece. The girl could be in Royal chambers or the dungeons for all she knew and she couldn’t ask questions because she didn’t know anyone…well, anyone that would speak to her.

“Damn!” she thought.

The kitchens were stifling so Esther walked out into another smaller courtyard that was cut with shadows from the sinking sun. It seemed to be the domain of the laundry workers who were all busy either hanging up or taking down drying washing. Nobody noticed her so she found a shady archway and rolled a cigarette. What to do? What to do? She took a deep drag of the rollup and closed her eyes as she blew out a stream of smoke.

“Lord Tyrion wants a word with you” said a voice in her ear. She turned and saw the voice belonged to the taller man who had been in the training yard. He looked around and then indicated to go with him. Esther ground the cigarette stub under heel and followed him.

As they walked through the maze of corridors and across balconies she tried to memorize the route but it all looked the same and she was hopelessly lost. It didn’t matter though; all that mattered was that she was going to be able to speak to the one person in King’s Landing that she could probably trust.

As they turned yet another corner she nearly walked into the man’s back as he had come to a full stop; in his way was the giant from the training yard.

“What do you want? I thought the King had called you to heel?” said the smaller man. Esther moved towards the wall, trying to keep out of sight.

“Out of my way or I’ll kill you” said the giant. Esther noticed that he had a fresh wine jug in his hand and was swaying slightly.

“Now why would you want to do that?” said the man as he moved ever so slightly into a better fighting stance and rested his hand lightly on the pommel of his sword. Esther saw he had a blade strapped to the small of his back and moved closer to him and put her hand on its handle, he stiffened slightly in acknowledgment of her move but did not push her away.

“Get out of my fucking way or I’ll kill you and your whore where you stand” the giant said again. The smaller man stepped aside and the giant looked straight at Esther; in one glance she took in his huge physique, his ravaged face, his dark eyes and did not look away. Her stare peeled away his skin like the hottest fire and he knew she had seen the heart of him; she had seen the darkest corners of his mind, the secrets that all the wine in the world could not drown out; the screams, the blood he had shed, the fire that had twisted him into the thing he had become. She had seen it all and she hadn’t flinched. He was rooted to the spot and did not move even as she and the smaller man walked up the staircase and out of sight.

Bronn opened the chamber door and pointed for Esther to go inside. Tyrion was still sat in the same place looking out of the window at the now near purple sky.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked.

“Yes” replied Esther wary of what could happen.

“No, Bronn. Please stay.” said Tyrion as the man had moved to leave the room.

He passed Esther the cup and finally looked at her.

“I never expected to see you again.” he said.

“And I never expected to see you either, especially here and now.” Esther replied taking out the tobacco pouch and making a cigarette.

“I take it you are here to fetch Sansa?” Tyrion asked, watching her.

“Is that her name? Damn I should have known that.” she said almost to herself.

Tyrion smiled incredulously “You don’t even know her name?”

“No I can’t remember their names, I’ve never even met her, I’ve never met any of them properly. You weren’t there when Ned sent me away but he made sure I could never return to Winterfell; there have been no happy family reunions in the last 25 years.” she replied bitterly

“Gods has it been 25 years?” asked Tyrion

“You know it has.” Esther replied, “and don’t even think about trying to convince me that we haven’t changed. You look bloody awful for a start.”

Tyrion snorted with laughter “And you, my dear, are as charming as I remember. Do you know Bronn, the first time I spoke to Esther Stark she was 9 years old and was beating up a boy twice her size and a good 5 years older?”

“I was 10 and he was three times my size” Esther said acidly.

“Of course” said Tyrion ruefully.

“And why was she beating up that lad?” asked Bronn, playing along with their game.

“If I remember rightly it was because he had called me a bastard dwarf. We were visiting Winterfell just after Robert’s marriage to my sister. I was 14 years old and always alone; none of the other children would talk to me. One day I was walking through the courtyard and some of the local boys caught me, they pushed me in the mud and the biggest boy threw a stone at me; before I could call out I saw that boy fall flat on his face with a screaming wildcat on his back. This little girl with a shock of red hair had seen what was happening and saved me” said Tyrion with only the slightest trace of embarrassment.

“So you were saved by a 10 year old girl then. Times have changed since?” said Bronn

“If I remember rightly you asked me to marry you.” said Esther taking another deep drag of her cigarette and watched the smoke curl into the lighted candles.

“And if I remember rightly you refused me.” said Tyrion, watching the same smoke disappear through the open window.

“I was 10 years old, too young to marry even for your family.” Esther smiled as she remembered the blond boy covered in mud with blood dripping down the side of his head, looking at her hopefully whilst the crowded life of Winterfell carried on around them. 

“You never married I take it?” Tyrion asked.

“No. I never married. I never had children. I left the convent 19 years ago and have been working in the villages and towns stretching from North to West to East. Those years have been well spent though, I have few regrets.” replied Esther, desperate not to have Tyrion’s pity, she felt none for herself.

“I wish I could say the same.” Tyrion took a sip of wine

Esther did not reply. She had heard a little of what had happened to the great and powerful families after the mad king had been killed but the strange truth of politics was that, although kings and governments came and went, life for the unimportant people remained relatively unchanged; they were still poor and brutalised, abused and forgotten.

“This war will make butchers of us all in time.” said Esther.

It was Tyrion’s turn to remain silent, how could he deny what he knew to be true.

“I’ve come to take my niece away before this city eats her alive. Will you help me?” she asked.

“Your nephew has my brother. Since my sister has already lost one Stark girl, Sansa is our only bargaining tool. If you take her I will never see my brother again. Robb Stark will kill him and parade his head for every garrison, town, city and rebel to see. We will loose this war and we will all be executed.” said Tyrion flatly, but unable to look at the woman who had always been in his thoughts however deeply he tried to bury them.

Esther felt the bottom drop out of her world. She had not known about the capture of Jaime Lannister and she now she had revealed her presence to a man who could and would use her to strengthen his own family’s position in the war.

“But a Lannister always pays his debts and I owe you a debt that needs repaying” Tyrion continued grimly, “I will not speak of who you are unless you try to take Sansa. You can stay here and watch over her or you can leave the city without interference, it is your choice.”

He finally looked at her. Her face was white against the shadows and she was staring at him, her huge, brown eyes swallowing him. He saw Bronn move to stand behind her, his hand on his sword.

“I will stay.” Esther took a last drag of the cigarette and dropped the end on the tiled floor.

“And you will not attempt to take Sansa?” asked Tyrion

Esther smiled “One day Tyrion I will show you who I really am and why you are the luckiest man in Westeros but tonight I will agree to your request. But when the sea burns and the towers fall I will do what I came here to do.”

She stood up and was at Tyrion’s side before Bronn could even move. She bent down and kissed him on the mouth, softly. She was out of the door and lost in the corridor’s shadows before either man could take a breath.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello again (I need a more original greeting) Thanks again for reading. I'm a sucker for magic and I like the fact that it's often female-centric (a hangover from the good old days of witch burning perhaps). Anyway, please let me know what you think if you can.

Sandor Clegane woke the next morning with a stinking hangover and very little recollection of what happened the previous day after the training yard session. He heaved himself into a sitting position, grabbed a wine jug then threw it aside when he realised it was empty. The sun was already up and he needed some food before the day got any older. 

Esther had spent an incredibly uncomfortable night curled up in a dark corner of the vast kitchens that served the court. She needed food and drink and a plan. She made her way outside and found a relatively clean bucket, filled it with water and washed the grime off as best she could. She felt slightly better as she dried her face and arms on her skirt but gods this heat was killing her, she would need to find cooler clothes or keep to the cooler larders if she was to be of use to anybody. 

The kitchens were as busy as ever as they served the court, the soldiers and the huge army of clerks, servants and indentured workers that called this place home. Esther took a seat at the end of a table that could have comfortably seated the entire convent where she had trained and still left room for about 50 skinny peasants. There were still plates and food remnants left from the major serving of breakfast for the workers in the bread kitchen so she set about eating up the leftovers without challenge as the entire place was focussed on baking the hundreds of loaves that the Keep required everyday. She was scraping around a bowl with the last crust when she felt the hairs rise on the back of neck; before she could turn round she felt the rest of the bread kitchen go quiet.

“Get me food and a jug of ale.” said a familiar voice to the nearest cowering servant. Esther risked raising her head and nearly groaned at her appalling luck; it was the giant soldier from the training yard the previous day. She stood up as quietly as possible and began to clear the empty dishes, trying very hard to match the terrified mood of the rest of the kitchen workers. She had no idea where she was going to take the dirty dishes but the main thing was to look as busy as everyone else.

Sandor poured himself a cup of cool ale and set about eating the food put in front of him; he didn’t give a shit that all the kitchen staff were petrified of him, so they fucking should be. He was aware of the women in particular stealing glances at his burnt face when they thought he wasn’t looking; even those that had seen him everyday. One of them was clearing the table; she couldn’t even face him, stupid bitch.

Suddenly there was a loud scream from the nearest row of baking ovens; a small boy had collapsed and was rolling on the ground holding his arm, screaming loud enough to wake the dead. In an instant the woman clearing the table had dropped the dishes and was at the boy’s side. The boy must have been a relative of the kitchen matron because she also came rushing from the other side of the room and was fussing over him. Fuck’s sake, he couldn’t even eat his breakfast in peace.

Esther gathered the boy in her arms and looked for somewhere to lay him down so she could look at the burns on his side and arm. She knew it was a bad burn the instant she had got near him; she could smell the singed flesh. Unfortunately the table where the giant was sitting was the nearest and best surface, bugger it, it’d have to do.

“Get away from my boy. Jaggard! My boy! Jaggard!” the kitchen matron screamed, pulling at Esther’s arms as she struggled to place the boy as gently as she could on the table.

“Stop that this instant!” said Esther sharply, putting every ounce of authority she had into the syllables, “I can help your son but you need to let me work!” She pulled the boy’s arm away from his side, he screamed and she hissed through her teeth when she saw how bad the burn was; the skin was already blistered and cracked down his right flank and arm.

“Get away from him! Who are you? Get away from him” the woman was still screaming and by now the whole kitchen had stopped working and was watching the show, including the soldier.

“Oh fuck it” thought Esther.

“Madam I am a Moontide sister and I can help your boy, Jaggard is he called? I can save him but you have to trust me.” and Esther raised her sleeve and showed the hysterical woman and anyone else who happened to be looking the moon trio tattoo that marked her trade.

“You’re a Moontide sister?” asked the woman through her tears. Esther nodded.

“What do you need to save my boy?” 

“Boiling water, very clean cloth – muslin will do – and all the butter you can find”

At the first mention of her trade the mood of the rest of the kitchen had changed; this was special. Most of the workers could never have hoped to watch a Moontide sister work and especially in such close quarters, the sisters usually worked in secret. Each of the workers virtually fell over themselves to get what Esther had requested and bread making had all but stopped.

All of Esther’s attention was focussed on the boy and his injuries; the first thing she had to do was ensure that the shock and the pain did not kill him. She laid her hand on the boy’s forehead and closed her eyes, she felt the tingle in her palm begin to grow as her power leeched the terror and pain from the small child’s body, his rapid breathing slowed and became even, his terror filled eyes closed, his hand unclenched and he stopped the agonised twitching, but all that suffering had to go somewhere and, with all the delicacy of a man pulling the fangs out of a sleeping snake, she cupped one hand with the other and walked over to the fire and released it into the flames which roared for a second and then returned to normal.

“Fire to fire” muttered Esther and returned to the boy. She placed her hand on the boy again and was happier with his condition when she felt eyes on her; she looked up to see the giant soldier staring at her, staring at her with an intensity that was bordering on savage. She met his eyes and braced herself for him to grab her and take her straight to the Queen but he did not move. Just then the boy’s mother brought what she had requested so Esther set to work trying to save the boy, the giant would have to wait.

 

First she shaved the butter into long slivers straight onto the boy’s burns and let that melt onto the damaged skin and then she laid the muslin over it very gently to stop too much air from getting to it; this took a long time and all the while she felt the soldier’s eyes watching her, he had not moved from the spot where he was sitting, his food and drink ignored.

When she was happy with the dressings she stepped back and let Jaggard’s mother go to her son.

“He won’t wake for at least a day and a night, I’ve seen to that, but you must ensure that he drinks plenty of water or milk during that time, even if you have to pour it down his throat. I will check on his condition after that – he must be placed in a cool, dark place away from anything and anyone. Do you have a wine cellar or a dark pantry?”

“He can go into the beer cellar, that’s just on the other side of the courtyard. He won’t be bothered there; I’ll make sure of it.” said a rather red faced, sweaty man who had the look of baker.

“I’ve got to go with him!” said the boy’s mother.

“You can’t” said the baker, “You’ve got your duties too see to.”

“I’ll cover her work for today.” said Esther, hoping the woman’s duties were something she could do.

“Alright then. The rest of you, get back to work!” said the baker more because a Moontide sister had said it than because he was feeling generous. The grateful mother nodded to Esther and gently picked up her son and walked out into the courtyard.

“I can give you a few moments Sister and then you need to help make the dough for the next batch of breads.” said the baker with as much respect as he could and then walked off to check the temperature of the ovens in the furthest corner.

Esther walked through the same doorway the mother had gone and found another small courtyard that was empty but already blisteringly hot. She found a shadow and rolled a cigarette, hoping against hope that she had not drawn too much attention to herself. She had already decided that subtlety and stealth were not her strong points.

She always felt slightly dislocated and lost after using her powers like that, she generally preferred not to use them and rely on her knowledge like all the other sisters had to but sometimes it was her only option. She felt light, as if she could float away and lent her head back on the stone wall to try and anchor herself. Again she felt like she was being watched and opened her eyes to see the soldier standing in the kitchen doorway staring at her. She sighed and braced herself for what was to come but he just walked away in the opposite direction without saying a word. Esther shook her head at the strangeness of the situation and went back into the kitchens to try her hand at making bread.

Most of the soldiers in the training yard that day could not understand why the formidable and almost unbeatable Hound was so easy to knock down. He missed opportunities to beat a man down, he parried when he should have thrust and he was too slow to dodge even the most obvious moves; but what was most surprising was his lack of rage, it was almost like he didn’t care. They put it down to a bad hangover and avoided him more than usual. Only the tack boy, who was taking a rare opportunity to get out of work in the end stable had any idea what was the matter with The Hound; he had seen the terrifying man go to his evil bastard of a horse and begin to brush it down and heard him talking about red hair and fire magic; but the tack boy was only 10 and nobody listened to him anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello and thank you for reading. I love a fearless character and GoT has lots of them but I also think that fearless characters aren't fearless at all, they just get so pissed off with the situation that they act and I like that. Please let me know what you think if you can (as always).

The sun was setting like syrup on King’s Landing when the workers finally emerged from the kitchens. The bread had been made for that day at least. They went straight to the well and began to wash off the sweat and flour that coated them from head to toe. Throughout the day most of them had stripped to their underthings, the men with bare chests and the women in cotton vests and hair hidden under scarves. The mood was light, they were safe in the knowledge that for a few hours they would not have to toil in the hellish heat of the kitchens. One of them in particular had suffered, not used to it at all. 

Esther didn’t bother wetting a cloth to wipe away the work, she simply poured the bucket of cool water over her head; the other women laughed at her but without malice; not only had she saved the boy but also she had worked hard so a mother could be with her child. She shook out her hair from the sticky cover and relished the damp strands cooling her back. She was no stranger to hard work but she had never worked so long and at something so physical. She had mixed and kneaded pounds and pounds of dough; she had shaped the breads, tended the fire and piled up the hot loaves ready to take to the table. She was exhausted but strangely satisfied, she had not had time to think about the future, she had lost herself in the repetitive work and listened to the others talking and laughing and arguing; she almost felt like she had belonged if only for a short while.

She cleaned up as best she could and went to check on the boy. She stepped into the cool, dark beer cellar and saw the boy with his mother curled up beside him like two birds in a nest. She peeled away the muslin and saw that the burns, though still nasty and dangerous, were forming the crust that would help him to heal; she put her hand on the boy’s forehead again and felt that he was mending well. A deep blue glow surrounded her and the boy for a moment and then it vanished; all the while the boy’s mother slept on with her hand resting on his undamaged arm.

She emerged from the dark unsure of what to do next; she should go and search for Sansa but perhaps that could wait a while. The other workers were eating and drinking in the cooling twilight. A group of women called her over to sit with them and gave her a bowl of stew, bread and ale.

One of the oldest women, a wizened old bird who was in charge of the proving, looked at her over a nose that looked more like a beak.

“So then, what brings a Sister to these parts?” she asked, the other women tried to shush her but she carried on looking at Esther with a piercing stare.

Esther stared back, never one to back away from any kind of challenge and also certain that these workers would not give her away.

“I’ve come to take my niece away from here.” she said.

“And who’s your niece?” the old woman asked. Esther took a deep breath.

“Lady Sansa of House Stark.” she said. There was an audible gasp even from the old woman; the woman who had worked beside them all day was a high-born of a traitor’s House as well as a Moontide Sister. They looked at each other in shock.

“Well it’s about time. That poor girl has suffered mightily since her father was executed. Joffrey is worse than the mad king.” said the old woman in a low voice; again the other women tried to quiet her but none of them disagreed.  
“And you’d be the Lady Esther then would you?” she asked, still staring, “My sister married a Northman.” she added by way of an explanation.

Esther smiled, “Just Esther, or Mistress Stark if I don’t like you.” 

“Well then…Esther…perhaps you would be so good as to pass that ale jug to me.” said the old woman and smiled, showing the last of her teeth.

Sandor walked out of the stable and stood in the fading light. Gods he wanted a drink but perhaps he would pass by the kitchens first.

Esther had just finished a story that was so filthy it could have scorched wood at ten paces; the women were laughing and the men were looking over at them as they do when women laugh and they think it’s at them. All of them were still in a state of undress and Esther felt the breeze on her skin. She heard a gate bang but did not turn round; she was too busy enjoying herself.

“Well look what we have here.” said a male voice. Esther felt the atmosphere change as the women looked down at the ground. She turned to see a group of soldiers walking towards where they were sitting.

“A group of kitchen sluts lazing around. Is that what you are being paid for?”

None of the women looked up and the men from the kitchen turned away from the group. Esther got the idea that this might be a regular thing. One of the soldiers reached down and pulled up one of the younger girls.

“And how about you? Would you like to earn some more money? It’s easy. All you have to do is lie on your back.” said the soldier and turned to laugh at his friends. The young girl looked terrified but no one seemed to be about to help her.

The soldier twisted the girl’s arm and smiled when she cried out.

“Leave her the fuck alone!” said Esther, standing up and moving towards the soldiers.

“Shut your mouth bitch.” said the soldier and twisted the girl’s arm further.

“I said leave her alone.” repeated Esther. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the old woman shake her head but it was impossible for her to stay silent.

“Or what? What are you going to do, whore?” said the soldier, gaining another laugh from his friends.

“Leave her alone or I will cut your cock up and feed it to the dogs, you prick!” replied Esther.

“You fucking slut!” shouted the soldier flinging the girl to one side and drawing his sword. Time seemed to slow as he lumbered towards Esther and she saw that he favoured his right side slightly. She darted forward under his clumsy thrust, snatched the dagger from his belt and had it to his throat before he could react.

“Now I’m not sure how sharp or clean you keep this blade; it looks dirty to me.” she whispered, “In fact I think that one cut from this could lead to a very nasty infection. Of course that won’t bother you because you will bleed out in agony before any rot can set in. Can you trust your friends not to move because I get jumpy when people hold blades too close to me and I might jolt this hand at your throat.”

She could sense the man’s rapid heartbeat as he stared, pleadingly, at his friends who backed off. She pressed the dagger even further into the sweaty neck flesh.

“I think you enjoy frightening young girls and that makes me angry. I wonder how many women you have terrorised. I think you need to be taught some manners, don’t you agree?” she continued to whisper in his ear. The stupid man tried to nod and ended up cutting himself on the dagger, he gave a strangled scream.

“Shut up! It’s not deep…but it will be deeper if you try this again. In fact I think I might start lower down and work my knife up if I hear of you or your friends trying anything like this again. And believe me when I say I can make it last a VERY long time, you’ll be glad for the death I finally give you.”

The man was virtually purple and whimpered. 

“I’m going to release you in a moment because to kill you here would be more bother than I need. You and your friends will leave through the gate you came in from and I don’t want to see you again. If I even smell your breath I will kill you slowly and carefully, and then I will kill your friends and no one will ever find the bodies. I’m sure you understand me.” Esther removed the knife from his throat and moved away from the gasping man. He crawled to his friends who hauled him to his feet and dragged him through the gate.

The women immediately went over to the young girl who was quietly sobbing. Esther picked up her bag and walked off in the opposite direction. As soon as she was out of sight, she sagged to her knees and gave herself up to the uncontrollable shaking that had been threatening since she had taken the dagger. She felt rough hands grab her shoulders and she lashed out.

“Fuck’s sake girl, stop that!” said a voice who held both her wrists with one hand and then tipped her head back and poured sour wine down her throat. She couldn’t help but swallow most of it, the rest she coughed back up over her front.

“Gods! That’s good wine you’re wasting, girl!” said the voice again.

“Mistress.” whispered Esther hoarsely. 

“What?” the voice said irritably.

“My name is Mistress Esther” she said in a stronger voice, the wine was doing its work and she began to feel calmer.

“I don’t give a fuck! What did you think you were doing with those soldiers?” Esther couldn’t see who was talking in the darkening gloom.

“They were going to hurt the girl. I had to stop them. Let go of my wrists. Please.” she said. The hand released her and she slumped against the wall.

“They would have killed you, you stupid girl. That kitchen worker wasn’t worth your life.”

Esther fished around on the floor until she found her bag. She pulled out the tobacco pouch and began to shakily roll a cigarette; something that she could with her eyes closed which was lucky as they were in near darkness.

“She was helpless and I wasn’t.” Esther said simply and struck a match. The flare lit up the man in front of her. She saw the huge physique and the burned face and she gasped. His eyes glittered in the flickering light and he looked fearsome. 

“Do you like what you see, girl?” he asked.

It occurred to Esther that he was far more dangerous than the men she had just encountered but she felt no compulsion to fight him. She kept the match held up and stared at him and then shrugged and dropped the burnt match on the floor.

“I told you my name is Esther. And if you saw it all why didn’t you help?” she took a drag of the cigarette and waited.

Sandor had seen the whole thing. He had been in the shadows watching the women talk, drinking form the wine jug he had no memory of picking up. He noticed how her hair seemed a darker red in the light of the torches and how her skin seemed paler, the tattoo standing out stark against the white. He also saw how she fitted in with the workers but still had an otherworldly look as if she had just been delivered by the setting sun and would be gone by morning. 

He’d heard the soldiers arrive and watched as they had grabbed the young kitchen maid; he’d been about to put a stop to it when Esther had stood up. He was a veteran of many bloody and vicious battlefields, afraid of nothing and no one but when the soldier had drawn his sword Sandor was unable to move. He could only watch as Esther had out manoeuvred the stupid bastard in a way that impressed his soldier’s instincts. Whilst the others were comforting the girl after the soldiers had run away with their tails between their legs, he had seen Esther walk away and could do nothing except follow her. 

He’d found her in a crumpled heap on the floor and couldn’t stop himself from reaching down and touching her. He felt the bones in her wrist grind against each other as he struggled to stop her from hitting him, he’d watched as the wine had poured down her, marking the white with ruby rivulets; he’d seen her eyes widen when she saw his face but he’s also seen that, again, she had not looked away.

“So? Why didn’t you do anything?” Esther repeated.

“I didn’t need to.” Sandor replied.

“No, you didn’t” Who was this man who seemed to be at her every turn since she had arrived at King’s Landing? With the burned face and the silent stare, she should have seen him as an enemy, she knew that; but instead she felt…secure with him.

“Who are you?” she asked in the dark.

“I’m no one.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello again. Thank you so much for reading. There's quite a bit of graphic violence in this one, just so as you're aware.

Esther returned to the kitchen courtyard. Most of the workers had disappeared to sleep, work would still continue in the early morning but the group of women were still there with the baker.

“Mistress, thank you for what you did.” he said without meeting her eyes. Esther remained silent.

“We’ve found you a room, it’s not much but it’s better than bedding down on the kitchen floor.” he continued, rolling his cap between his huge hands. Esther raised her eyebrows but still did not speak.

“We thought you could, perhaps, if it’s no trouble, stay? Near us?” he finished.

Esther paused before answering. “Thank you for your kindness. I’d be honoured to stay.”

The was an audible ripple through the small group and the women lead her to a small but clean room with a bed, table and a high window, down the corridor away from the heat and noise of the kitchens. She sank gratefully onto the narrow but comfortable bed and was asleep before she hit the pillow.

The sun had already risen when a knocking on the thick, wooden door of her new room awaked her. She slid back the grill and saw a skinny man with his remaining hair teased across his bald scalp like trees clinging to the side of a mountain, he looked frightened to death.

“Yes?” said Esther still half asleep.

“Er…er…it’s…er…me back.” he said glancing up and down the corridor. 

Esther sighed, “wait there, I’ll call you in a moment.” and shut the grill before the man could say anything. She didn’t have any other clothes and had to put on the flour covered mess from yesterday but someone had thoughtfully put a jug of water and a cloth on the table, she swilled her face and opened the door. The skinny man was still waiting in the corridor looking lost. She ushered him through and he painfully hobbled over to the bed but didn’t sit down.

“What is the trouble with your back?” she asked.

This continued for most of the morning and into the afternoon. There was a steady stream of workers and even a few soldiers who came for her counsel; she saw coughs, twisted limbs, numerous rashes and skin maladies, unhealed injuries, eye complaints and one memorable case of what Mother Superior had delicately called ‘a dicky end’.

She was just wiping her hands after the last patient had left when one of the kitchen women burst into her room.

“Mistress, you’ve got to come!” she panted.

“Why? What’s wrong? Are those soldiers back?” 

“No Mistress! There’s a riot outside in the city. The Lady Sansa went with them to see Lady Mrycella off. Please Mistress!”

 

As they neared the gate Esther could hear the screams and shouts. Most of the Lords and Ladies who had escaped were collapsed on the floor, bleeding. She went desperately from one lady to another but none of them were Sansa; she didn’t know what Sansa looked like but she could sense that she was not among the wounded. She saw The Queen get bundled through the gate, surrounded by armoured guards. She saw Tyrion shouting at a boy who must have King Joffery but she didn’t care, all she cared about was finding Sansa. She heard Tyrion ask the King’s Guard to find her but the King refused to give the order. The gate opened to let another survivor through and she ran out into the riot ravaged streets.

Sandor had pulled the King through the gate and was preparing to go back out to quell the rioters when he saw Esther run through the gate.

“What the fuck?!” He shoved the guards out the way and emerged into the street to see Esther run down a side alley, oblivious to the chaos and blood that surrounded her.

If anybody had been in a state to watch Esther they would have seen her stop and appear to sniff the air, she then turned down another alley and go through an archway. A rioter attempted to grab her but snatched his hand back as if burned when he touched her. Sandor was on her heels but he lost her down another alley. He stabbed and slashed his way through the melee and turned down the same alley.

Esther found herself in a filthy room and saw 4 men attacking a young girl. As 3 held her down, another was on his knees in front of her. She did not feel the tingle in her palms this time, it came more as a roaring tide that surged down her arms. She raised them up and closed her eyes. 

Sandor entered the room, sword drawn, in time to see the would-be rapist be flung into the air like a hooked fish and ripped limb from limb; blood rained down on them and the body parts flew into the far corners. He looked at Esther who was standing in the midst of the carnage with her arms raised looking, for all the world, like a woman praising the rising sun. One of the other attackers cried out and ran at Esther, Sandor grabbed him and rammed his sword into the man’s stomach; another tried to escape but Esther turned and his head was twisted off his neck without her touching him. The final man tried to run but Sandor caught him and, as he pleaded, opened his throat. 

Esther felt the boiling rage dissipate and opened her eyes to see the petrified eyes of her niece. She could not say anything and instead backed out of the room and was lost in the crowds.

Sandor looked down and the terrified girl.

“It’s all right Little Bird. You’re all right now” and he reached down, pulled her up, hefted her onto his shoulder and made his way back to the Keep.

He barged his way through the crowds and then into the Keep , he heard the door slam shut behind him and, as gently as he could, put Sansa down.

“See to her” he said to her ladies, “she has a cut that needs seeing to.” The women led Sansa away.

“Thank you Clegane” said the dwarf.

“I didn’t do it for you.”

Esther found herself back inside the walls of the Keep with no memory of how she got there. She staggered over to a fountain and leant over the rim to look at herself. She saw that she was covered in blood and gore, her eyes were bright with the residue of her violence, she looked…savage. She quickly dipped her hand into the water and began scrubbing at her face and hands. 

All the while she was scouring her skin, Mother Superior’s face rose in her mind. The kindness of the woman who had taught her everything she knew. Her patience and deep rooted belief that there was good in everybody. The only woman, until now, who truly knew who Esther was. The other novices had not been so wrong when they had said she was the Shard Witch reborn. It was this…power that had caused her brother to send her so far away but it was also this that had enabled Esther to become the most skilled Sister the convent had ever seen. She had promised Mother Superior that she would never, never use it to kill anything; when she used it for violence it changed her. And now she had killed 2 men with it. 

The truth that Esther could not even admit to herself was that she had liked it; she had liked having the power to stop those men (were they even men) who had been about to hurt Sansa. That was the truth that Mother Superior had known all those years ago and what she had tried to teach Esther. She continued scrubbing at her skin long after the blood had gone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh Varys...you just get better and better. I think they should do a GoT spin off series where it's just Varys and Tyrion sitting on a patio of an evening, drinking wine, smoking and dishing the dirt on everyone they know.

Sandor drained the last of the wine in the jug and started on the next one. He’d been drinking solidly since the riot but nothing could obliterate what he had seen.

Esther sat on the side of her bed in the dark and tried to think of nothing. Some of the women had shrieked when they had seen her dress but she had shaken them off and gone to her room. She had stripped off the ruined and blood stained over dress and at some point, she supposed, one of them had come in and taken it away, it wasn’t anywhere to be seen now.

There was a knock at the door but she ignored it. There was a second knock, louder than the last so she stood up to tell whoever it was to fuck off. She was in no mood for visitors. She yanked the door open and stepped back when she saw a bald, richly dressed man standing in the flickering light.

“Lady Esther of House Stark. May I come in?” and he walked through closing the door quietly behind him.

“Who the hell are you?” Esther asked, wrapping her bare arms around her, conscious that she was only in her shift.

“I am Lord Varys, I sit on the council. Please forgive this intrusion.” he said, brushing the bed cover with the back of his hand before sitting down.

“How do you know who I am?” she had to admit it wasn’t the most original line but it was all she could think of.

“Oh my birds see everything and then sing their songs to me. Like your…performance during the riot today. You must have been so relieved to see your niece safe?” he said, watching her.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Esther said defensively but already certain that she had lost this strange battle.

“Oh come now my dear. A Moontide Sister who arrived only a few days ago; who has stood up to the fearsome King’s Guard, ministered to the sick and then rode into battle to rescue Lady Sansa? Who else could it be? Your reputation precedes you.” he continued.

“What do you propose to do with this information. I presume you are going to take me in front of the King?” Esther asked. Lord Varys looked mildly appalled at this suggestion.

“And how would that benefit me? Dear me no.” he shook his head and laughed lightly.

“Then what?” asked Esther tired of this game.

“I understand that you know the King’s Hand, Lord Tyrion?” he asked suddenly.

“Yes.” said Esther suspicious of the new direction the conversation was taking.

“I have an…understanding with Lord Tyrion and I fear he would be most angry if I were to take you before the court. I think it’s better that you and I become…friends.”

“I don’t need anymore friends.” said Esther.

“Don’t you? So how do you propose to meet Sansa…properly, shall we say? I doubt the girl would be very receptive if you went up to her and simply announced who you were. No, it would be better if you allowed me to make the arrangements for you to meet her somewhere private and safe from prying eyes.” Lord Varys said, straightening his robes.

“Away from prying eyes except the eyes that pry for you.” said Sansa bluntly and Lord Varys smiled again, “and what do you want from me in return?”

“Oh my dear, I want nothing from you. I only wish to serve the…Shard Witch reborn.”

Before he had time to move, Esther had her hands round his throat and the room became icy cold.

“Do you think it wise, Lord Varys, to try and play the Shard Witch?” she hissed.

Lord Varys’ eyes bulged as she squeezed, the room became even colder and the shadows took on a blue tinge. She gave one final vicious squeeze and then released the choking man who grasped his neck and gulped down air.

“My Lady, I only wish to make sure that you accomplish what you want with the minimum of difficulty.” he croaked. Esther brushed her hands over her shift as the room returned to normal.

Well thank you Lord Varys that is kind of you. I appreciate your generosity. And you may call me Mistress. Now, if I am to meet my niece I will need a better room than this, new clothes and a bath. I’m sure I can leave the details up to you.” she smiled sweetly as the man lurched to his feet’ “I await word from you.”

Lord Varys smiled and bowed low but his eyes never left her, “Mistress.” and then he was gone.

A short while later a very nervous maid knocked on Esther’s door again and led her to a room 2 floors above the kitchen. The room was small but a palace compared to where she had slept previously. The room was well furnished with many lighted candles, a dresser, polished mirror and a table piled high with food. On the bed was laid out a gown in deepest emerald green, Lord Varys had done well. In the middle of the room was a huge wooden tub filled with steaming water and scented with herbs. The maid tentatively asked her if she needed any help and then gratefully fled when Esther said she could manage by herself. She pulled off the stained and stinking shift and gratefully stepped into the hot water.

Sandor had finished his third jug of wine. Most of the other men had long since vacated the room, knowing from experience that The Hound is this state was a dangerous man. He raised his head and looked around the nearly empty room. He pushed himself violently away from the table and headed towards the kitchens; he needed to know what he had witnessed.

The kitchen staff were dampening down the fires when the double doors burst open. Framed in the flickering torchlight, The Hound looked even more formidable.

“Where is she?” he slurred and grabbed the nearest woman who screamed. He pushed her aside and staggered through the long room. He saw the baker who was too slow to get out of his way and grasped his collar.  
“Where is she?” he repeated. The baker was quaking with fear but managed to get his words out.

“Lord Varys visited her and then she left with one of his…maids. The women say she’s roomed two floors up. That’s all I know I swear.” he tried to twist out The Hound’s grip but only succeeded in throttling himself even more. The Hound let him go and strode though the corridor. The baker tried to straighten himself up and realised that the workers were staring at him.

“I had to tell him!” he said, “you all saw him; he would have killed me!” the workers turned away from the sweating man.

Esther had stayed in the bath until the water had gone cold. She sat down at the dresser and began to brush her hair. She seemed normal until you noticed that she avoided meeting her eyes in the mirror. The thin curtains were blown into the room by the night breeze so she investigated the clothes Lord Varys had provided for her. There was the beautiful gown, a set of fine underclothes, stockings and shoes. She discarded the stockings and shoes in an instant, nothing in the world could make her wear those. She put on the underthings but left off the dress, she doubted Sansa would be in any state for a meeting tonight. She blew out most of the candles and lay down on the comfortable bed.

By the time The Hound found his way to the second floor via a drunken detour through the laundry, meat store and a few empty halls he had sobered up slightly. He still wanted to find her but he was less savage in his need. He stalked through the corridors looking for signs of her presence.

Esther felt heavy and listless, she was walking through the convent gardens in winter. Snow hung heavy on the skeletal trees and fog silenced the surrounding nature. She had seen no sign of anybody so she made her way through the sleeping fruit trees to the main hall. She heard the great fire that had burned all of her days she had lived there, tended by the Sisters night and day. She pushed open the great wooden door expecting to see everyone eating their midday meal with Mother Superior at the head of the table. Instead the fire lit the room that was strewn with their bloodied corpses; in the middle of the table lay the body of Mother Superior, her throat slit and gouts of blood still fountaining from the wound. Esther ran to her side and tried to stem the flow with her bare hands.

“Mother what happened? Tell me! Who did this? Please Mother!” she screamed the last words.

Mother Superior pulled her down to her mouth “Winter has arrived” she whispered and the last of her life blood poured through Esther’s hands. An inhuman wind howled through the room and the fire went out; Esther screamed again as a White Walker appeared and raised the ice sword above her. She screamed again and raised her arms.

As soon as The Hound heard the screaming he began to run down the corridor to the room where the torched were shrieking up the wall in a burning frenzy. He couldn’t get in and began battering the door with all his force; servants came running and could only watch as the giant man assaulted the wooden door that could not withstand him.

What he saw in the room made his blood freeze; the fire and few candles were streaming blue in a screaming gale. The furniture was scattered across the floor as if a pack of rabid dogs had run through. In the middle of the bed Esther’s screams twisted though the air and she was surrounded by a shadow so blue that it was almost black. He drew his sword but there was nothing to fight. He fought his way through the gale and grabbed Esther’s shoulders and shook her.

“Wake up girl! Wake up!” he felt her skin burn with an icy cold but did not let her go. He shook her again. The unnatural wind died suddenly and the candles returned to their normal colour.

“Open your eyes. Girl! Open your eyes.” he was almost pleading. He felt her skin getting warmer, she was no longer blisteringly cold. She opened her eyes.

“We’re all dead.” she whispered and held onto his arms.

“ We’re not dead girl!” he said as he tried to remove her hands from his arms, “We’re not dead.”

He turned to see the servants peering into the wrecked room through the ravaged doorway.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” he snarled, “Fuck off.” and they scattered. Esther was sitting with her head in her hands.

“What happened girl?” he asked pulling an unbroken chair from the wreckage; he sat down heavily. Esther reached for her bag and began rolling a cigarette. He watched as she spread the tobacco across the length of the black paper, lick and roll it tight. She reached past him for the candle and he caught the scent of her hair. She held the candle to the end and inhaled.

“I had a…bad dream.” she said quietly. He remained silent but continued staring at her.

“Why are you here?” she asked, “Everywhere I go you seem to be there. Who are you?”

“I told you I’m no-one” he said and his teeth glittered in the light.

“No” she said, “you’re not.”

“I’m known as Joffrey’s dog, some call me The Hound.” he said, “I kill people for the King. You should be scared of me”

“Did you kill my brother?” she asked, still staring at him.

“No.” he answered.

“And you saved Sansa. I’m not scared of you.” 

Suddenly The Hound grabbed her arms and pulled her towards him.

“What do you want from me, girl? I’m a killer. I’ve killed men and women and shed more blood than you’ve seen.” he growled. Instead of struggling or pulling away, Esther moved closer until she was almost touching him.

“You don’t know how much blood I’ve seen.” she whispered.

Some of the servants ran to tell the other workers what they had seen; others ran to their masters.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion is a chap who prides himself on his ability to drink and talk, I want to see someone who is better at both get the better of him just once. Thank you for making it this far. Please let me know what you think, it's always good to know.

“So she was asleep during this episode?” asked Varys to the maid in front of him.

“Yes sir. And then The Hound shook her awake and it all stopped.” said the maid.

“Really?” Varys raised his eyebrows and stared past her, “that is interesting; very interesting indeed. Thank you my dear, you may go.”

He stood up and walked to the window and stared out over the moonlit bay as the maid quietly closed the door behind her. He had had dealings with magic in the past; it left him scarred beyond the physical. He hated it but knew which way the proverbial wind was blowing with the war; Stannis was in league with the Red Woman, Robb Stark was winning every battle he fought, Jaime Lannister was still a hostage, there were whispers of dragons in the South and if the war was to come to King’s Landing they would need more than men and arrows to turn the tide. 

He also had a feeling that Esther Stark’s arrival had more meaning than just an attempt to get her niece out of danger. He had heard rumours about the elusive sister of Ned Stark for years and his spies always said the same things; she was a Moontide Sister, she worked with the poorest of the poor, she championed the weak and helpless and she was frightening but never anything more. The people she helped would never talk about her and the people she punished couldn’t talk. She would disappear as soon as she had arrived and his spies in the North or East could find not a trace. He had been utterly surprised when one of his Little Birds told him she had arrived in Kings’ Landing and had been even more surprised when he had met her.

He had been expecting a Stark - dour, dogged and dull. Instead he had been faced with a woman who was the epitome of the winter the Starks were so fond of predicting. She had pale skin that denoted her Northern upbringing and lacked the grace and height of the Tully-Stark offspring but neither was she short like the rest of the North, her eyes were huge and brown like freshly shelled Autumn conkers whereas the rest of the Stark’s had pale eyes that stared out from under heavy brows; her hair was red, not the Tully red that Varys had always considered a tad garish but a paler red that reminded him of the orange Harvest Moon. She was sharp, she seemed to slice through to your core and she was deadly especially if you underestimated her. Yet…and here Varys stopped his internal monologue and selected an apple from the bowl beside him…there were things unseen about her. He turned the apple in his hand and watched it catch the candlelight; yes Esther Stark was an enigma and that fascinated Varys, to whom nothing was an enigma. 

Esther surveyed the wreckage of the room and decided to ignore it. She had been glad when The Hound had released her wrists and left the room without another word. He unsettled her; she could see what he was – an unrepentant soldier who would not question the order however vicious. She could also see the scars that seemed like an outward manifestation of the ravages beneath but there was something else; something that was buried much deeper. She hesitated; trying to find the right words to describe what she had seen when she had looked him in the eye. It was not kindness or regret or compassion, it was nothing as soft as that; it was…

She shook her head; this was neither the time nor the place to be thinking about that. Looking out of the window, over the Blackwater and the lights and out to the bay beyond, she felt her skin prickle as she remembered what she had seen. There had been rumours all her life about what was beyond The Wall but now they were finally going to be proven and she had been granted a glimpse of what was to come. 

“I need to go home.” she said aloud. This would mean accelerating her plans to get to Sansa and risk all on the fact that one kindness many years ago would be stronger than familial love. She stayed looking out of the window until the clouds turned from black to grey to pink and the sun shone over the horizon.

Varys was listening to a Little Bird bringing him news from across the Narrow Sea when his door opened and Esther Stark walked in, he shooed the young child away and watched as she sat down and began to roll a cigarette.

“My Lady.” he said and inclined his head slightly.

“Mistress.” she corrected as she lit the cigarette, Varys winced and waved the smoke away.

“You heard about what happened last night?” Esther asked and didn’t wait for his reply, of course he had heard, “Well, I need to meet Sansa today.” 

“My La…Mistress, it is not the best time; the palace is on high alert after the riot yesterday and Lady Sansa is very shaken after her traumatic experience, I think you should wait.” he tried to meet Esther’s eye but found he had to look away after only a few seconds.

“Last night I had dream the like of which I have not had for many years. It was so potent it changed the way fire behaves, it created a gale in a room no bigger than this and it made me so cold I burnt the skin of the man who tried to wake me. I dreamt of White Walkers so powerful they could kill Sisters who have worked for many centuries to stop them; they slit the throat of a very strong woman without a fight. I dreamt of a deadly winter and perpetual, utterly perpetual. How long do you think a spider lasts in a winter like that?” she stared at Varys through smoke.

“Why should your words have any credence?” asked Varys and she was impressed, it was rare anyone questioned her word.

“Because you know magic, you have experienced its terrible power. You heard the voice in the fire…you know what it can do?” She watched as the man remembered the terror he had felt.

“And that magic is NOTHING compared to what is in me and I am scared…imagine what is to come if I am scared.” she hissed at him and Varys slowly nodded.

“So, I need to get my niece out of this place and go to a place where I might have a chance at stopping it.”

“Where will you go?” Varys whispered.

“Where the fire, air, earth and water meet in perfect balance…I think.” she said

“You think? Oh my dear you need to be more certain than that if you are to save us all.” Varys watched the woman in front of him, who suddenly looked younger and far more vulnerable.

“There is no certainty.” she replied and the room filled with blue shadows and Varys felt the cold ripple through him; Esther leant forward and searched his eyes.

“You are important, more important than you know. Make sure you stay alive and trust the fire…it made you who you are.” and the shadows left and warmth returned to Varys.  
“Now, get me to my niece.” and she took another drag of her cigarette as Varys desperately tried to stop shaking.

Sansa knelt in the Godswood trying to ignore the guards and forget what had happened yesterday and the day before that and all the days since her father had died. She stiffened when she heard footsteps but relaxed when she saw it was just her maid.

“My Lady.” Shae said, looking at the guards, “Lord Tyrion requests your presence.”

“Lord Tyrion? What does he want with me?” Sansa asked.

“I don’t know My Lady, he just requested your presence.” Shae replied and indicated she should move quickly. Sansa rose and brushed the dirt off her dress and followed her maid wondering what fresh horrors were about to befall her.

Esther had left Varys after he had promised to arrange for her to meet with Sansa as soon as possible. She thought she was walking back to her room but found herself in a long corridor that looked out over a huge courtyard. She could not ask anyone so decided to follow her nose until she came to a great set of stone steps that lead up to the Great Sept. She walked into the circular room glowing with light coming from the massive window. She saw the Wheel shadowed on the floor and the tombs of the dead kings.

“How much did this cost?” she murmured as she began to walk. It was quiet and cool and beautiful if you ignored the reek of organised religion and centuries of false piety that permeated the white stones. A door on the other side opened and voices filtered across to where she stood.

“…but Your Grace we need to know when the wedding will be, there is much to prepare and…”

“You need to know nothing, you wait on the orders of the King. If you can’t wait, I’m sure we can find something to fill your time…perhaps digging plague pits or leading the soldiers into a battle in the North.”

“Yes Your Grace, I apologise Your Grace.”

Esther saw Cersei Lannister for the first time in nearly 2 decades; time had been very kind to her but the cruelty and desperation still leeched through. She had heard the rumours and gossip about the Queen and she had no doubt that Cersei was behind the deaths of many including her own husband and Ned Stark but Esther had a sneaking admiration for the woman as one admires the power of a shark or the killing potential of a manticore. She had no doubt the woman would get the justice she deserved but it was not her fight, which duty would fall to someone else. 

She had known that the brother and sister were lovers when the bridal party had come to Winterfell many years before; it was obvious to anyone who had eyes. She’d also known when Jaime Lannister had pushed her nephew out of the window and broken his back even though she had been hundreds of miles away. She also knew that had to happen for other events to fall into place. It was acceptable to pull on certain threads and sew a new pattern but if you cut the wrong one, the whole tapestry would unravel; it was a hard lesson to learn but one that had to be adhered to. The child had a very important part to play in what was to come, more important than hers, perhaps the most important so she had let it happen.

The Queen and her servants moved into the centre and Esther took this opportunity to slip through another door. She emerged, blinking in the harsh light and came face to face with a dark haired and somewhat plump squire.

“Lord Tyrion requires your presence My Lady.” he said, keeping his head bowed.

“And what does Lord Tyrion want with me?”

“I don’t know My Lady.”

“Please tell Lord Tyrion that I will attend him at my leisure not his.” Esther turned and walked away but the squire followed her.

“Lord Tyrion said you’d say that so to remind you that you love rum and ginger and he has both…with star bread.”

Esther narrowed her eyes and gestured for the squire to lead the way.

“Ah Pod well done, you never disappoint.” said Tyrion, turning as the door opened.

“Thank you my Lord.”

“Tyrion, unless you have my niece I have other things to do.” Esther said.

“I don’t have your niece but I know where she is and I have told her you are here. She didn’t even know you existed but I have explained who you are and she is eager to meet you. And…I have a proposal for you.”

“Another one?” asked Bronn, sitting in the shadows, “she’s already refused you once.” Tyrion gave him a look but ignored him.

“Please sit. Have some rum and ginger.” and Pod poured a glass for each of them as Esther took her seat across the table from him. Bronn took a sip and coughed as the fire hit his belly, Tyrion also drank and spluttered, Esther finished her cup and held it out for Pod to pour another glass.

“So what is your proposal?” she asked after Tyrion had got his breath back.

“Stannis Baratheon and his mighty fleet are heading to King’s Landing and we don’t have enough men or weapons to fight him and not enough food to last a siege of more than a week. He knows this city and he knows where we are weak. Most of our forces are fighting in the North against your nephew and sister-in-law, the King is an idiot and Jaime is not here. If you help us defeat Stannis, I will give you and your niece and safe passage out of the city.”

Esther downed the cup of rum and ginger and stared at Tyrion who looked at her like she was rope and he was drowning.

“…you said there would be star bread.” she said after a pause and Tyrion indicated for Pod to bring the bread to the table. She tore off a chunk that contained the most little silver pickles that gave the bread its name and chewed as the 2 men waited for her reply.

“Why should I help you defeat the man who is fighting my family’s enemy? Why should I help any side in this pointless war? I can take my niece any time I like and leave before they shut the gates and starve the people?” she asked.

“Because if you help me win there won’t be a siege where thousands in the city die. You have no loyalty to Stannis Baratheon and your nephew doesn’t appear to need your help, he’s winning all on his own. You may not need my help to get your niece but I could make it easier.” Tyrion watched her carefully.

“What do you think I could do?” 

“If you are who the whispers say you are, I think you could do anything you wanted.” Tyrion said quietly knowing this was a dangerous gamble.

“If I am who the whispers say I am then you must have a death wish.” Esther answered, as the shadows in the room lengthened and it grew colder. Bronn shifted in his seat and put his hand on his dagger; Pod began to sway and his eyes closed.

“No I don’t which is why I am asking for your help.” Tyrion said and began to breath as the shadows returned to normal.

“Stannis is working with the Red Witch who worships fire…perhaps give him what he worships?” Esther said and drained her cup. Tyrion smiled with relief and gratitude, he had the beginnings of a plan, which was far more than he’d had before.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello again (again) - I would never advocate drinking seawater but I think The Hound would enjoy watching someone else heave their guts up. As always, please let me know what you think if you can and thank you for reading this.

Esther was crying with laughter at the story Bronn had finished telling and Tyrion upended the empty jug and looked sad.

“Pod, more ginger and rum!” and he took a huge mouthful from his cup. Bronn swallowed his own.

“This is good stuff, I’d have spent more time in the North if I’d have found this.” he said, trying to focus on Esther.

“Then, on behalf of all Northern women, I am glad you’ve only just discovered it.” and Tyrion nearly fell off his chair laughing.

“Do you know Pod, I don’t think I can stand up.” slurred Tyrion and slumped in his seat. Bronn drained his cup and rolled his head.

“I don’t think I’ve ever fucked a witch.” he said trying to focus on Esther.

“And you won’t.” she said and watched as he passed out, she turned to Pod, “their hangover will be the worst they have ever experienced, don’t give them anything but water no matter how much they beg until at least tomorrow afternoon, they’ll only throw it back up.”

“No my Lady.” Pod answered.

“Mistress.” corrected Esther and stood up to leave.

“Will you be alright Mistress?” asked Pod and she nodded, “but Mistress, you drank more than Lord Tyrion and Bronn, why aren’t you like them?” and he gestured to the snoring and drooling duo.

“A Northern constitution.” she said and turned him to face her, “now Pod, where is my niece?”

“I…I can’t tell you Mistress.” he said looking into her huge eyes, he didn’t notice the lengthening shadows or feel the icy tips slide into his mind.

“Oh my boy, of course you can tell me…”

She walked down the flickering corridor. Although she was not drunk she was sure, the rum and ginger had dulled her senses so she did not hear the guards coming the other way until they were nearly in front of her. She stopped and looked desperately for somewhere to hide but it was too late. She felt a strong arm grab her waist and a huge hand clamp over her mouth and she was pulled into a dark room she hadn’t even noticed. She twisted ferociously in the iron grip but couldn’t break it. The guards went by and she was finally let go. She turned to see The Hound staring down at her.

“What are you doing here girl?” he growled.

“Mistress.” she said automatically and felt a wave of nausea, she shouldn’t have drunk so much ginger and rum and being picked up and swung around had not helped.

“Gods woman, what have you been drinking?” said The Hound as the waves of alcohol rolled over him.

“Ginger and rum.” Esther replied, grabbing onto him for support as the room began to spin.

“Firemead?” he looked at her incredulously, “how much did you have?” and caught her under the arms as her legs went.

“About a jug…maybe more.” 

“You should be dead.” he said flatly, “Only one thing can help you now.” and picked her up.

“No! I don’t want that.” she said.

“It’s the only thing, girl.” and he began to walk towards the gates.

“Mistress.” Esther said miserably.

Even though it was late there were still people going about their business. They watched as The Hound stalked though the palace with a woman over his shoulder…not one of them tried to stop him.

By the time they reached the shore, Esther could barely stand. The Hound had threatened her with death if she puked down his back and she’d managed to hold it down but it had been a close run thing. He dropped her onto the sand and went to the edge of the sea with a cup.

“Here, drink this” he ordered, holding out the cup of seawater.

“I won’t drink it. I won’t!” she slurred mulishly. He looked at her and before she could react, he’d grabbed her face and opened her mouth, pouring the seawater down her throat. She spat at him and clawed at his hands but he managed to get her to swallow it.

“You fucking great bastard! How dare you do…oh shit” and he moved out of the way as she threw up the contents of her stomach onto the sand. She continued to heave and retch until there was nothing left.

“Oh fuck.” she said and wiped her mouth.

“Here.” said The Hound and held out the cup again. “it’s just water.” he added as she refused.

Esther gratefully swallowed and then began to retch again as the seawater hit her stomach for a second time. The Hound smiled and watched as she fell to her knees on the sand and brought more seawater back up.

“You shitty bastard.” she gasped as the heaving gradually subsided.

“Needed to make sure it was all out.” he said looking out at the greying horizon. Esther fell back and leaned against some driftwood, closing her eyes.

“How did you know salt water was the only thing to counter too much Firemead? And how did you know it was called Firemead, only Moontide Sisters and the people from the Isle call it that?”

“I was at Widow’s Watch once, drank it there.” he answered and sat on the driftwood a little way from her.

“I love Widow’s Watch. I stayed there for about half a year a long time ago, the people are hard as nails but honest…and generous.” she said with her eyes still closed.

“You should have stayed.” The Hound said harshly and Esther sat up and looked at him narrowly.

“It’s you again. You, the King’s mad dog. The one mothers tell stories about to make their children behave. The killer of men, women and children…the monster. The man who is soaked in blood…helping to sober me up with a far away remedy. Why?” He looked at her.

“Fucked if I know and fucked if I care.” he answered, “Sun’s coming up soon, don’t you have a fine dress to put on and fine men to drink with?”

“No I don’t.” she answered and continued to stare at him.

“Why haven’t you taken me in front of the court? You were there during the riot, you saw what I did to those men…why haven’t you arrested me or something? Why did you help me save Sansa?” 

The Hound couldn’t answer her, he didn’t know. He’d watched as that little shit Joffrey had tortured Sansa, he’d felt… something for her. He thought it could have been lust and tried to drown it in wine but it wasn’t. He remembered his dreams for the first time in years; he dreamt of his little sister. He couldn’t see her face but he could hear her voice and then her screams. Perhaps it was this memory that had urged him to keep Sansa safe. Perhaps he was getting soft. But when he had seen Esther save that kitchen brat from the fire it had woken something in him and all he could do was follow her and do whatever she needed him to do. 

“Get your Little Bird and leave the city before the war starts, no magic will be able to help you once Stannis’ soldiers start raping.” he growled.

“Little Bird? Is that what you call Sansa?” she asked, relentlessly staring at him with those dark eyes.

He stood up and roughly yanked her to her feet, “If you ask me one more question, I’ll cut your tongue out.” 

“No you won’t.” she said calmly and walked up to the sea wall, brushing the sand from her skirt. He could do nothing but follow.


	10. Chapter 10

Varys walked along the battlements following the King and Tyrion who was doing his best not to pitch the stupid boy into the sea. After Joffrey had walked away, they leant on the wall and looked out to sea and talked of what was to come.

“I heard you enjoyed the company of 2 Starks yesterday.” Varys kept staring into the glittering water.

“And I heard you tried to manipulate her without much success. I almost paid the iron price, never known a hangover like it and she walked away from the table. It took me all morning to stop puking.” answered Tyrion.

“You must tell me the story of how you met that most interesting woman.”

“No, I don’t think I must.” Tyrion smiled up at Varys whom he had a sneaking suspicion was trustworthy.

“Have you arranged for her to meet with her niece?” Varys asked and Tyrion nodded.

“Well I’m sure we shall learn how the meeting goes.” he said and turned back out to the sea.

Esther followed the small, dark-haired maid towards the Godswood and felt a little nervous. She knew what had happened to the girl since Ned had died and that she would probably be wary of her but other than that she didn’t know what to expect. The girl was kneeling but stood when she heard them approach. Esther decided there was no point in hiding some of her more acceptable skills and gripped the gaurds’ arms as she passed them.

“Forget and go.” she said in a low voice and watched as they walked away, it would only last an hour but it should be enough. The maid watched open mouthed as the guards left, Esther caught her eye and shrugged.

Esther looked Sansa up and down, she was definitely more Tully than Stark on the outside, she had the grace and beauty of Catelyn, what was going on inside was going to have to be revealed through conversation. Esther sighed.

“Sansa, do you know who I am?” she asked and the girl nodded warily.

“Lord Tyrion explained it to me.”

“And do you believe him?” Esther watched as the girl wrestled with her answer, well at least she was smart enough to doubt.

“I…I don’t know. My parents never told me about you…” Sansa hadn’t met her eye yet.

“Well…your father sent me away when your brother Robb was a new born. I…I am different, I trained as a Moontide sister and have been travelling for many years.” 

“Uncle Benjen joined the Night’s Watch and he returned occasionally.” Sansa sounded almost accusatory.

“Your brother trusted Benjen…he didn’t trust me.” this was more difficult than Esther had thought.

“Why?” asked Sansa.

“After our sister…died…and your father became Warden of the North, I was too much for him and so he made the decision to give me to the Sisters and I…I blamed him for taking me away from my home and I…I never forgave him. And before you ask, no I will not tell you specifically what I did to make him do that.” she could tell that Sansa was still unsure she was who she said she was; she took Sansa’s hands in hers.

“Do you remember the door leading to the hall at Winterfell? Well, did you ever notice the large chunk of wood missing from the left hand door?” she was grateful when Sansa nodded, “I carved that chunk out of the door when I was practicing with my father’s sword, it was too heavy and I swung it too hard. Which one was your bedroom?”

“The one down the corridor from my parents’ bedroom, the one with the fireplace carved with trees.”

“That was my sister’s bedroom.” Esther said, “On windy nights did you ever hear the chimney sprites singing?”

“Yes!” said Sansa eagerly; “It used to frighten me until my father told me it was sprites singing just for me”

“He said that to me too.” said Esther, “do you believe me now?” and Sansa nodded, tears filling her eyes.

“I’m here to take you to a safe place, do you want to leave?”

“Yes! Yes please.” Sansa was openly crying with relief and leant her head on Esther’s shoulder. She wasn’t used to dealing with crying girls and could only hold the girl.

“Hush now, hush. There will be time for tears later but you must be brave a little longer.” Esther said when the girl showed no signs of stopping, “We can’t simply walk out of the gates, we have to wait.”

“How long will that be?” asked Sansa, her face falling back into fear.

“I don’t know but now that I’m here nothing will happen to you. Do you believe me?” and the girl met her eyes for the first time.

“Yes…I saw what you did to the men during the riot.”

“Hmmm…I had hoped you wouldn’t remember that…I said I was different…that’s part of what makes me different...but now dry your eyes and pretend that nothing has changed.” and she wiped the girl’s tears away as gently as she could.

“You’re not staying with me?” Sansa asked fearfully.

“No.” replied Esther, “It would attract too much attention and I need to get some supplies ready for when we do leave.” and the girl reluctantly nodded.

“Can you ride?” asked Esther and was relieved when Sansa nodded.  
“Well that’s more than I can do but we’ll do our best.” and they began to walk up the path with Shae following.

“You can’t ride?” asked Sansa incredulously.

“I can after a fashion but I don’t like it. I don’t trust horses, they are all a little insane.” and smiled as Sansa laughed.

“I will try to see you tomorrow and I promise I will look after you.” Esther said as they came to a fork in the path and watched as they walked away. She shook her head, the girl had no useful skills…yet she had survived King’s Landing longer than her father…perhaps she was not totally helpless.

Esther had had enough of the palace and its interminable courtyards and corridors that all looked the same so she found a side gate and went out into the city. She wandered down the streets and saw the poverty and disease and despair of the people who lived there but she also saw the life. She saw the brightly painted whores, the smiths, the beggars, the street hawkers, the ostlers and ordinary folk who always bore the brunt of politics. They were all frightened about the forthcoming siege but they were also going about their daily business, life didn’t stop for potential death. 

She realised she was desperately hungry and thirsty and found a likely looking tavern and sat down in a dark corner. She ordered ale and pie and watched the comings and goings; as darkness began to fall soldiers piled in and the whores plied their trade.

She saw Bronn enter with a group of soldiers and pushed further into the shadows. They began to sing the fucking awful Rains of Castermere and she stared into the lamp thinking about Tywin Lannister and his poisonous presence.

Wings over the sea. A red woman laughing in firelight. Blood on the snow. A man who was a tree. A door to be closed. A Valyrian sword. A scale balanced. A dog howling in a snow storm. Blue eyes staring out of ice.

She gasped as the air rushed back into her lungs and she heard the bells. This was the beginning.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't get me wrong I LOVED the Blackwater episode and thought it was amazing but then I saw this week's episode and I have NEVER seen television like it (and I've watched a lot of television for a long time). Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think if you can.

Esther felt like she was swimming against the tide as hordes of people tried to get as far away from the bay as possible. She shoved and pushed her way through until she came to the palace… swarming with soldiers. She backed against the wall as a squadron marched through the gates and slipped through unnoticed behind them. 

Inside was pandemonium; soldiers, horses, servants, clerks, high and low born all rushing without any semblance of order. Esther smiled at the perfection of this.

She headed towards Sansa’s room or where she thought it was but realised she had no idea if she was going the right way.

“Hey you! Get back to your lady. Why are you walking about? Don’t you know there’s a war about to happen?”

Esther turned to see a steward staring at her; she’d been about to cut him down to size but realised he could be useful so dropped her eyes and managed a sort of curtsey.

“Sorry sir, I got turned around with all the soldiers. I am looking for the Lady Sansa.”

“She’s with the others in Maegor’s Holdfast, get there quickly now.” the steward saw Esther look down the corridor and then look the other way and raised his eyes to ask the gods for patience, he had no idea where they got these servants from but it wouldn’t be a bad thing if some of them were killed by Stannis’ soldiers and no mistake.

“Go through the main yard and they’re in the Queen’s Ballroom. The Red Keep!” this servant must be simple. The steward was just about to berate her even more but Esther ducked around a group of lancers and was lost in the chaos. 

Later, when the steward was lying in a pool of his own piss and blood with an arrow in his belly, he was sure he saw the eyes of this servant just before the darkness came.

Esther moved through the shadows and came to a balcony that overlooked the dark sea. The moon emerged for a moment and she saw the darker dots of Stannis’ ship. She blinked and saw a lone ship heading to the giant fleet like a flea to a dog. She saw a flaming arrow fly from a tower and then the whole of the sea and sky lit up with pain and fire and death. She flung herself to the floor and covered her head trying to stop the screaming.

When she opened her eyes the sea was on fire. The anguished cries of the burning men filled the air but there was nothing she could do…a thread that couldn’t be cut. She thought back to the throw away comment she had made to Tyrion only a short while ago but she had no time to think about her role in this.

“Fuck the King”

Esther finally found the right place as the battle raged outside. She searched the women in the room who were singing a fucking hymn as men murdered each other only a few feet away. None of them were Sansa.

Panic rose in Esther’s chest; she’d lost.

“You have come for Lady Sansa?” said a voice and she turned to see the small, dark haired maid and Esther nodded knowing she couldn’t do this without help.

“Go back the way you came, turn right and follow that corridor, her room is on the left, down the stairs.”

“Thank you.” Esther stared hard at the woman in front of her and saw what was coming for her, “don’t torment the lion or it will end badly for you.” The maid frowned at her but Esther was already gone.

She pushed open the bedroom door and Sansa turned with a small cry.

“No it’s me, it’s only me. Are you hurt?” and Sansa shook her head.

“I…I thought you were the Hound come back.” she whispered.

“The Hound? He was here? What did he want? Did he try to hurt you?” again the girl shook her head.

“He wanted me to go with him but I refused.” Esther raised her eyebrows but said nothing.

“You are leaving with me, now.” and Sansa nodded and began to pack a box.

“What are you doing? There’s no time for that! We go NOW!” Esther hissed and grabbed the girl’s arm but not before Sansa had grasped a smaller bag.

Esther dragged Sansa through to the kitchens that were empty and through to stables where she hoped there were horses but they too were empty. They would be going on foot.

Out in the streets the chaos reigned more ferociously than even the Mad King had. Esther ducked and weaved, never letting her iron grip of Sansa slip; she grabbed a knife from a dead soldier and kept moving until they got to the Street of the Tanners. Fire was burning in the thatch roofs up and down and people had formed haphazard bucket chains to try to save what they could. Sansa couldn’t breathe and the screaming of the animals and people paralyzed her but Esther was relentless. They came to Rellet’s house that was already burning. Sansa watched as her aunt raised her hand to the fire and saw it part like peasants for the king; the girl could feel the heat from the fire but for Esther it simply moved. She found the bag she had hidden when she first arrived and they headed for the nearest gate. 

Sansa didn’t know if she was more afraid of staying or leaving with her aunt.

“No one is leaving.” said the guard in a cracking voice that betrayed his youth and fear.

“Open this gate now.” Esther said quietly but the boy remained resolute.

“No one is to leave by order of the King.” he repeated like a mantra. Sansa watched as Esther drew a handful of pebbles from one of her pockets and covered them with the other hand. Something strange happened as she opened the palm to show the boy, now it was not pebbles but nuggets of gold that shone almost bright as the Wildfire that still burnt on the sea.

“Open the gate and this will be yours.” she said and the boy could do nothing but stare at them. Eventually he nodded and unlocked the small wooded gate that would ultimately lead them to the North Road. Esther poured the fairy gold into his eager hands and pushed Sansa through.

Once they were out of the city, Esther moved into the treeline. The pace she set was punishing, Sansa was soon out of breath but her aunt refused to lessen her grip. Even when her gown got caught in the undergrowth or she said her feet in the fine shoes hurt, the pace remained the same. Sansa began to cry but her aunt ignored her. Just when Sansa was about to sit down and refuse to move any further, Esther suddenly stopped and yanked her to the ground.

The group of 4 deserters were on the other side of a rough ditch; they were drunk and scared and very dangerous. Esther put her hand over Sansa’s mouth and pushed her further into the undergrowth, pulling her cloak over the fine silk dress. If they were very lucky they would not be spotted.

“What the fuck is that over there?” slurred one of the men and Esther sighed as they headed towards her. She gripped the knife she had taken and stood up with one foot on Sansa’s back to keep the girl down.

“Keep moving and you might live to see the dawn.” she said, hoping against hope that the men would listen to her. They didn’t.

Sansa kept her head down but she heard everything. She thought the first scream had come from Esther but when the bubbling sound of torn gristle reached her and a second scream echoed she knew differently.

Esther did not need to use any power to defeat these men. As one grabbed her arm, she cut him to the bone with the knife in her other hand. His scream sent the other men running towards her with their swords raised. She grabbed the injured man to her chest just as one slashed with his sword but he only succeeded in killing his compatriot. She dropped the body and slid the knife into the other’s belly. He fell to the floor, clutching his stomach as the insides saw the outside for the first and last time. Another, less drunk than the first two, feinted to her left but she was ready for it and spun on her right foot and rammed the knife into his neck as he raised his sword to split her head. The blood fountained as she pulled out the knife and faced the final man. He had his sword raised but hesitated and Esther moved in for the kill.

“No!” screamed Sansa and Esther turned to look at her, “Please stop!”

Esther saw the fear in her niece’s eyes, the weakness for the man who was giving up the fight. Esther moved forward and slit his throat before he could lower his sword. Sansa screamed as he fell, clutching the rip in his neck.

“He was giving up!” she screamed at her aunt who was covered in the gore of the four men she had just murdered, “he was surrendering and you killed him! You’re a monster!”

Esther turned to face Sansa and the girl froze at her expression and watched her like a mouse watches a cat.

“Yes, I am a monster.” Esther whispered, “I killed a man who was surrendering to me. If I hadn’t he would have told anyone who would listen about us. He might have got more men and hunted us. He could have followed us and slit our throats in our sleep. He and his friends would have raped and killed us without a second thought this night. I killed to save us. And I will always make that choice…always.”

Sansa was breathing hard and fast. She remembered a story she heard about her grandfather who had once been dragged off his horse and nearly mauled to death by a female Direwolf, it was only the arrival of the hunting party that had prevented his death. Sansa thought that her aunt was like that Direwolf, entirely animal and without pity. She should have stayed at the palace; Stannis might have allowed her to go back home. Now she was stuck in the dark with a person who was more dangerous than anyone she had ever come across.

“No wonder my father sent you away.” she said with the very last remnant of her anger. Her aunt’s expression made her cower like nothing before.

“Your father sent me away because he feared I would hurt his children and subjects…and he died because he refused to see what was really happening. You are alive because I don’t refuse. Which would you rather be? Now get up, stop crying and follow me, we need to keep moving.”

Miserably, Sansa got to her feet and followed her aunt.

“I hate you.” Sansa thought.

“I know.” said Esther out loud as the girl gasped, “but I’m all you’ve got at the moment.”

Esther looked back at the city that was lit with fire and blanketed with smoke.

“I hope you lived, Tyrion.” she thought but had very little hope he had.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello and thank you for continuing to read this. I loved the relationship between Arya and The Hound (still do). Please let me know what you think if you can.

The rain was pissing it down as they tramped through the woods that ran along the North Road. Both of them were cold, wet and hungry. Sansa had been crying for most of the day and neither of them had spoken.

“Where are we going?” Sansa said it so quietly that Esther barely heard it.

“We’re going to The Eyrie, your aunt…other aunt…rules there.”

“Aunt Lyssa? But I don’t even remember her.” Sansa had stopped walking and stood in the rain. Esther turned to look at her and for the first time saw a frightened child.

“Sansa…I’m sorry…I…I don’t know you and you don’t know me and I thought I could protect you but…I can’t. I have to get back to the Moontide Sisters and the journey will be long and dangerous. I’m taking you to a place where you will be safe for now. I will get word of where you are to your mother and brother somehow.” Esther moved them both under the relative dry of a huge tree and rolled a cigarette.

“But you said you were going to protect me. You’re my family!” Sansa was virtually wailing. Esther took a deep drag of the cigarette and tried to think of the words to explain everything that had happened before this girl had been born and what would happen in the future.

“This is the best way I know to protect you. I can’t take you with me and there is nowhere else near enough…I’m sorry.”

“Where are you going?” the girl asked, picking at her fingernails despondently.

“I think I’m going to have to go back to the Moontide Sisters…I need help to understand what is happening.”

“Can’t I go with you?” and Esther shook her head.

‘Why not? I promise I’ll try harder…I’ll keep quiet and walk faster. I’m sorry I said I hated you.” Esther looked at the girl in front of her, she wanted to take her with her but Sansa would only slow her down and it wasn’t fair on her. It wasn’t her fault she was ill suited to Esther’s life.

“No, it’s better for you to go to your Aunt Lyssa…You’ll be safe there.” and Esther desperately hoped she was right.

The journey took a week and they kept to the woods, luckily they saw no one. Each night Esther had talked to Sansa and learned more about the family she barely knew. It pained her to see how much the girl missed her mother and siblings and how much the death of her father had hurt her. She had tried to make the girl become stronger but it was clear Sansa felt like Esther had betrayed her.

They came to the approach and Esther stopped.

“You go alone from here.” she said and Sansa looked petrified all over again.

“Why? I thought you would come with me?”

“I have never met your Aunt Lyssa but I bet she’s heard about me from your mother…it’s better if you arrive alone. Go on now.” and she gave Sansa a little push.

“…thank you.” said Sansa quietly.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t a better carer for you until your mother comes for you. I’m…I’m glad I got to meet you and I’m…I’m very proud of you. You are much stronger than you think. Here…” and Esther gave Sansa a tiny knife with a wolf carved into the handle, “it served me well for many years and now I think it belongs with you but keep it hidden.” Sansa turned the knife over in her hands and then tucked it into her bag. She began to walk away but turned and flung her arms around Esther’s neck.

“Shush, shush. Go on. I’ll see you again, I promise. Go on now.” and Esther watched her until she was out of sight. She looked up to the top of the Eyrie and was sure she saw a dark figure looking down; it was an impossibility to see that far but Esther was sure it was a man…perhaps she was seeing things again. 

She sighed, rolled a cigarette and headed back to the High Road to begin the long journey to the Moontide Sisters.

She’d had to double back on herself to get back to the King’s Road as the weather had been too bad to cross over the Mountains of the Moon with the few supplies she had. It had rained solidly for 2 days and Esther was fed up. She huddled in her cloak and tried to light her cigarette but the damp had got into her papers. She counted up the coins she had and decided she’d probably enough for a hot meal and a room at the next inn she came to.

It was dark by the time she reached the Crossroads Inn, the lights were a beacon of hope in the murky evening. She walked in and sat as close to the fire as she could. After her pie and ale arrived she attacked it with a ferocious hunger and her clothes gently steamed as they dried. 

She shut the door to her room and was very glad to see it was clean and comfortable but she would have gladly slept in a stable. She peeled off her still damp trousers and shirt and gratefully burrowed under the covers and slept like the dead.

The light broke through the shutters and woke her; it had been a long time since she had slept after dawn. Sitting down to a breakfast of eggs and thick bread with cheese, Esther thought about Sansa; she hoped the girl would be safe. She looked up to see the innkeeper watching her closely; Esther inwardly sighed, she knew that look and it meant work for her.

“Errrrr…are you a healer missus?” he asked.

“Yes I’m a Moontide Sister, how can I help you?” she replied, hoping it wasn’t going to be anything that would ruin her breakfast.

“It’s my mother, she’s old and can’t get about like she used to but she’s hurt her leg.”

“Take me to her.”

Esther spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon cleaning and stitching the leg wound and then helping to clean the old woman up and get her more comfortable. She took the seven coins in payment and the free dinner the innkeeper offered before she set off again. 

Settling down to the stew, she looked up at a commotion by the door. A large group of men walked in and sat down demanding food and ale. The innkeeper didn’t look too distressed so Esther thought he probably knew them.

“Who are they?” she asked as the innkeeper passed her table.

‘They the Brotherhood Without Banners, don’t fight for no house. They alright but they don’t like paying for their food.” Esther kept her head down and tried to finish her meal as quickly as possible, she didn’t need any trouble. She caught the eye of a large boy who was sitting with a young girl and another slightly older boy; he smiled at her but then bent his head to the food.

A man was speaking loudly and surprisingly eloquently as she was finishing her food. Esther realised he was a red priest, she felt the anger rising; as if the people needed more rules, more gods, more fear. Another man telling others how to live. She shook her head and gathered up her bag.

There was another commotion as more of the Brotherhood came into the inn with a prisoner with his head covered. Esther began moved quickly to the door but then they removed the hood.

“Oh fuck!” she thought as she saw the scarred face of The Hound and tried to double back but was nearly knocked over by the young girl and her companions who were also trying to make a getaway.

“What the fuck’s that little Stark bitch doing here?” The Hound growled and Esther froze.

“Stark?” said the red priest and stopped them from leaving. Esther had a choice, she could leave and follow them at a distance, try and get to the child somehow or she could reveal who she was and hope that the Brotherhood would listen to reason or at least be easy to kill; ultimately the decision was made for her.

“What the fuck are you doing here? Is this a fucking Stark family reunion?” The Hound’s voice echoed around the inn and Esther felt everyone’s eyes on her especially the large, blue eyes of the young girl.

The Hound had been travelling for days, drinking his money every opportunity her got. Since he’d left King’s Landing, he’d tried to drown out everything he had seen and done but nothing worked. If he slept he’d dream of the fucking witch or the fire or the Little Bird or all three. He couldn’t drink her away, he couldn’t forget her; she was haunting him. He’d passed out under a small oak tree and had woken up with an arrow pointing at his face; he’d been too hungover to fight.

When they’d taken the hood off and he’d seen that cunt Thoros he’d thought it couldn’t get much worse; then he noticed the little Stark bitch and the stupid fuckers didn’t even know what they had. Then he’d seen a flash of red hair and the bottom dropped out of his world as he found himself staring into those dark eyes.

“And who do we have here?” asked Thoros moving closer to Esther.

“None of your fucking business, priest.” Esther replied, stepping up to him and staring him down.

“She’s a Stark.” The Hound said, “She’s this one’s aunt. A fucking Moontide Sister.” Esther narrowed her eyes at him.

“So I have the pleasure of addressing Lady Esther Stark, the last of her generation, a Moontide Sister and a lot more besides if the rumours are to be believed.” Thoros met her gaze but struggled to maintain it.

“She doesn’t say much does she?” he said, turning to his companions when Esther continued to stare at him silently.

“Well my Lady, you will be coming with us.” Thoros said.

“And if I refuse?” Esther replied quietly.

“We’ll have to persuade you.”

Esther thought about ripping them apart, taking the girl and getting the hell out of there but perhaps she would see where this would go. 

Following Thoros out, she felt the girl staring at her with something bordering on the ferocious.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I remember when Thoros of Myr was plain old Dennis Pennis! Thank you so much for making it this far and please let me know what you think if you can.

Being slung over the back of a horse behind the stinking priest, hooded and taken through the woods had not done much for Esther’s mood but it had given her time to think. She was bright enough to see when the threads were being drawn together. It had not been coincidence that they were all in one place together and the Red Priest was making her hands tingle; something about him was drawing her power to the surface, it felt like the time just before a storm. 

“Eeugh what is that?” she heard her niece ask.

“Blackstrap rum.” the priest replied and laughed when the child refused. She then felt him turn in the saddle and raise her hood; she smelt the alcohol.

“Will you have some my lady?” he asked and tipped it to her lips, expecting her to choke.

“Oi!” shouted the archer, “Don’t let her drink all of it!” and she felt the flask snatched away, she swallowed and grinned.

“It seems we might have underestimated you my lady.” the priest said close to her ear.

“It’s Mistress.” she whispered back and Thoros felt ice seep into his blood but it was gone in a moment.

With the hoods replaced, they were lead over wet rocks and through what felt like a waterfall and then into a cave. They finally came to a stop and the hoods were removed; as she blinked in the firelight she saw The Hound back away from the flames. 

Thoros began to explain who this group were but Esther wasn’t able to listen; there was a drumming noise inside her head and it was almost throwing her to the ground. She could barely stand and she fell against the smith boy who had been with her niece. A man emerged from the shadows and she heard The Hound call him Berric Dondarrion; something wasn’t right with him, he was surrounded by a deep, red shadow. She looked around to see if the others noticed it but they were just watching and listening. 

“…I’ve been reborn in the light of the one, true god as have we all…” the rushing sound in her ears drowned out anymore of the conversation. The smith boy supported her and her niece was stealing glances at her until The Hound denied being more of a murderer than ay of the other men in the Brotherhood.

“You killed Micah…” she shouted; the rushing sound became a roar as Dondarrion got nearer to her

“…not my place to question princes…” The Hound returned.

“…I sentence you to trial by combat…it’s me you’ll fight.”

Esther was nearly on her knees, she couldn’t hold her head up; the red shadows surrounding Dondarrion had begun to change to a brighter orange the more he talked.

Her vision clouded and Esther saw… flames in a far away city, a burning man holding a leash, masters killed by slaves, a woman’s voice ordering the fire…dragons…burnthem burnthem burnthemall…

As Thoros began to pray to the Lord of Light, Esther returned to the cave but the roaring was still in her head. The Hound was released from his restraints but the priest kept praying into the fire; the orange shadows around Dondarrion were now a blazing white but still no one seemed to see them. Esther felt like her chest was being crushed, something powerful was in this cave and it was seeking her out.

“…for the night is dark and full of terrors.” whispered Thoros.

‘No.” thought Esther through the rising fog in her mind, “the night is the balance for the day, one can’t exist without the other…”

She managed to raise her head to see Dondarrion slice his palm and slide his sword through the blood, there was an audible gasp as it flamed and even through the pain she remembered The Hound was scared of fire.

“A cruel gesture.” she thought as she tried to shield her eyes from the excruciating light that was filling the cave, casting gruesome shadows on the rough walls. 

Both men fought hard and she saw her niece watching with intense hatred for The Hound, willing him to die. Men struggled out of the way as the soldiers battled; Thoros yanked her niece out of the way of the fighting as the two men, so evenly matched, battled for their life or justice. Esther felt the power inching its way towards her, tasting the air for her, sniffing her out in the midst of the chaos.

Dondarrion seemed to gain the upper hand and the Brotherhood began to chant, “Kill him” over and over again. But The Hound fought back, relentlessly hacking at the other man who fell to his knees with the flaming sword raised above his head. The Hound dropped a devastating blow that broke the flaming sword and he buried his sword deep into Dondarrion’s left side. The men were suddenly and deafeningly silent; Thoros rushed to Dondarrion’s side and began to pray ferociously, begging the Lord of Light to bring him back.

The too bright shadow had reached Esther and she felt it surround her, trying to curl its way into her. Then, her own power stirred and woke with a strength she had never felt before. It streamed out of her like a blue-black wave, pushing the brightness away. She raised herself up and opened her arms.

Thoros was still praying over the body and The Hound smiled and exclaimed that the god must like him more than the butcher’s boy. Arya rushed towards him brandishing a knife, so ready to kill.

Esther felt the light recoil from her shadow but it still tried to push through; she raised the stakes and began to push back, harder and with more force. 

“The darkness is my house and you will be gone before this day is done.” she silently shouted, again the light recoiled and again it tried but Esther knew she was stronger. The darkness and the light twisted together and fought with more wildness than the two men.

“The Light will always win.” a voice whispered but Esther smiled.

“No it won’t…because the darkness will always be there first.” she replied and the Light retreated, chased by the blue shadow of her power.

“Burn in hell!” she heard Arya scream.

“He will.” replied a voice and Berric Dondarrion raised himself to a kneeling position, “just not today.”

The Light disappeared and Esther fell to the ground as the priest felt the blue shadow pass through him. He gasped like a drowned man and it was Dondarrion’s turn to rush to his side. Gendry knelt beside Esther.

“She’s dead!” he shouted and looked about wildly.

“No” choked Thoros, as his breath began to return, “no… she’s not…but bind her hands before she wakes up.”

“Why?” shouted Arya.

“Because she is the night and she is full of terrors, child.” he replied.

Esther felt comforted as she floated in the black sea that surrounded her; she hoped she’d never have to leave. There was no past, no present just the darkness. A sharp taste made her flinch and she tried to wipe it away, an insistent whispering, like dry leaves in the wind, broke her peace.

“…bring her back to the light oh Lord. Protect us from the darkness and lead us into your Light…”

“Stop your fucking prayers priest.” she mumbled as she opened her eyes and swallowed more of the rum that had been forced between her lips.

Thoros sat back on his heels and watched her intently as she struggled into a sitting position.

“Why are my hands bound?” she asked.

“Because we don’t know what you are.” said a voice behind her and Berric moved in front of her.

“That’s a bold statement from a dead man.” she said.

“The Lord had chosen to give me the power to bring him back.” said Thoros, still staring at her.

“Are you sure it’s the Lord that gives you that power?” she asked, staring back at him and he looked away.

“What are you?” Berric asked and Esther sighed.

“In my bag is a pouch of tobacco and some rolling papers, give me them and I’ll tell you what I know.”

The men watched as she expertly rolled a cigarette and rootled about in the dying fire for an ember. She held the char to the smoke until the end glowed and then dropped it back into the fire. Thoros grabbed her hand and searched for the burns that weren’t there.

“ I am Lady Esther of House Stark. I am a Moontide Sister and your Lord of Light is nothing but a whisper in the darkness.” she stared at the men in front of her; some were terrified, some wanted to kill her there and then but Thoros and Dondarrion stared at her in silence.

“Bind her hands again.” said Thoros, still watching her, “don’t let her talk to anyone.”  
Esther grinned in the dying light but let them tie her hands. She felt eyes boring into her back and turned to see Arya watching her.

She was placed in a shadowed corner away from the others but was given food and water; Thoros had even left her tobacco pouch next to her. He seemed both fascinated and frightened by her but did not speak.

‘Are you really my aunt?”

It was night and the men were fortifying the camp before they slept.

“Yes.” replied Esther as Arya sat down a little way from her.

“How do I know that’s the truth?” she asked and Esther, inwardly sighing, went through the exact same proof she had used with Sansa.

“The men are all afraid of you.” said Arya, testing the water with this newfound relative.

“So they bloody should be.” Esther replied and thought she saw a ghost of a smile.

“How did The Hound know you?”

“I met him when I went to get you and your sister from King’s Landing but you had already gone. I took Sansa and left her with your Aunt Lyssa at The Eyrie.”

“Sansa’s alive?” Arya tried to hide her hope but failed.

Esther nodded.

“Why are the men afraid of you?” she asked.

“Because men are always afraid of what they don’t understand or can’t control. The Stark’s are a very old family and that means more than political power or influence or land. We come from the First Men but there were also the First Women and magic runs deep in our blood. In every generation there have been those with the power to warg or those with Greensight. Once in every millennium there are those with even more power, I’m one of those Starks. My power come from the First Women who directed Bran the Builder to create the wall which helped defeat the terrors from beyond that Wall.”

“Do you mean the Wildlings.” and Esther smiled at Arya’s innocence.

“No my love, not the Wildlings.” she moved closer to Arya who did not back away.

“You know the stories Old Nan used to tell?” and Arya nodded, “well…they weren’t stories…they were warnings.”

Most of the men were asleep. Esther was awake and turning over all that had happened; she didn’t know enough of the lore to be able to understand how it all fitted together. She needed to get back to the convent as soon as possible. The Moontide Sisters, as well as being healers, had been preparing for this for 8,000 years and she needed their help. She leant her head back and closed her eyes.

A hand clamped over her mouth before she had time to fight and she twisted to see The Hound leaning over her.

“Come with me.” he whispered but she shook her head.

“I can’t. I have to take Arya to her mother.”

“Please. Come with me.” The Hound begged, “ I will keep you and the girl safe. Leave with me now.”

“No.” said Esther and put her hands over his. He pushed them away, roughly.

“Have it your own way; get yourself killed staying with this lot. But when the Lannisters or the Freys or the Tully’s or which ever group of bastards come, remember this.”

“I will only stay with them long enough to get my niece and then we will leave them to their fate.” Esther could see the desperation in his eyes.

“Stay with that priest who is so interested in you. You’d only get in my fucking way anyway.”

Esther tried to think of the right words to explain to him, to make him see that her plan was the right one but instead she leant forward and kissed him. It was not a gentle kiss that Sansa might have dreamt about with her knights, it was a hard, dark kiss more suited to a witch and her Hound. He pushed her away again and looked fierce. If the fire had not already been lit in him, it burnt now but he had no idea what to do about it. His desire was to push her onto the floor and take her there and he thought she might not have refused. He thought about picking her up and carrying her away with him. Where her lips had touched him, he felt an icy burn of pleasure that ran straight through him, she had marked him more surely than any fire and he both hated and desired her.

“We will meet again Sandor Clegane. Of that I am certain.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where it begins to become a newish story (not stolen from the tv series with a few extra bits... I know, I know I'm a thief). Please let me know what you think if you can and thank you so much for reading.

Esther watched as Anguy repositioned Arya’s stance. Since the events in the cave Esther had felt dislocated and apart from the Brotherhood and her niece. Arya had rarely spoken to her but she had noticed the girl creeping slowly nearer her at night; she felt strangely flattered.

She leant back against the tree trunk and gratefully accepted the flask from Thoros. He had tried to question her about what had happened but she refused to speak of it with him; it was not his story and it was not his power. She’d felt him staring at her with a hungry expression; his eloquence and world weary charm might have worked on her in different circumstances and she had no problem with helping him breaking his vows but he was part of the Light and therefore her potential enemy. She still drank his rum though.

Esther sighed and began to roll a cigarette. 

burnthem…burnthem…burnthemall

Suddenly her hands began to shake and her whole body began to sweat.

“Somebody’s coming.”

A train of horses approached but Esther only noticed the rider in the red cloak. 

Arya watched as they came to a stop and the rider threw back the hood and revealed red air, ice white skin and deadly expression. Thoros approached her and greeted her with a phrase she was familiar with. She looked back to where her aunt had been sitting but Esther was nowhere to be seen.

She knew she’d have to leave the moment the Red Woman revealed herself; every instinct she had told her to destroy but it would have been suicide. The woman stood out against the forest as if everything else was painted. A red fog surrounded her, trailing out like the tail of a burning star and she wasn’t what she seemed. Esther saw the fog snake out its tendrils towards her, twisting around some and whispering through others. She didn’t think about Arya or the Brotherhood, she just ran; she needed to get to the convent of the Moontide Sisters now more than ever.

She spent two very wet nights in the wood, she slept in a hollow, never lit a fire or went out for food; she drank only rainwater but she watched and waited. There was something out there and it was growing more powerful by the day. It was coming from all corners and she didn’t know how to stop it. She knew it had something to do with the Light and the Dark, with fire and ice, earth and the air but she couldn’t see it clearly; what she had experienced in the cave had been just a taste of what was to come. 

As the rain pattered on the thick canopy of leaves she also thought about Arya. Her niece had been impressive; strong, independent, ruthless. Esther had no doubt she would do very well on her own and reunite with her mother and brother soon. She felt uneasy about leaving her with the Red Woman but better that she was with the Brotherhood than making a very long and dangerous journey north. 

On the morning of the third day, Esther made the decision to start for the convent; what was coming was more important than family or the squabbling Houses. She followed the King’s Road north and didn’t look back

It took her longer than she would have liked to get past The Twins. She had kept to the King’s Road but away from the more populated areas. She’d scraped enough for food and to replenish her tobacco supplies through her Moontide Sister duties; most of the people she treated were suffering from the war, be it battle injuries or victims of the bands of soldiers and deserters who roamed the country. She’d seen what it was doing to the people and the land but knew it was a simple fleabite compared to what was coming. 

The further north she went, the colder it became; when she finally reached the marshlands of The Neck, she’d had more than enough of everything. When she was simply a Moontide Sister she’d had the luxury of taking her time in places like this. She liked Crannogmen, they were honest and strong; they’d been very grateful for her help in the past and had been hospitable. She’d found their villages, raised on stilts above the swamps and marshes, fascinating and lizard-lion stew was one of her favourite meals but she had no time and the difficult terrain was slowing her down. She was miles away from Moat Cailin that was a marker for half her journey. 

She huddled over her feeble fire; it had stopped raining only because the bitter wind had whipped the clouds away. Esther sighed and rolled a cigarette. Shifting uncomfortably on the very damp ground, she blew out the smoke and shuffled deeper into her cloak. She was reminded of the faith of her childhood when marriages, contract and oaths were made in front of the Weirwood trees. It would be on nights such as this that the ceremonies appeared to have more power, more significance. Marriages on nights like this would be much stronger, oaths would be adhered to for longer and the contracts would prove more fruitful. It was a night for the First not for the Seven or the Andals; this was a night for people like her. She just wished she were wearing warmer clothes.

Sandor made sure the horses were safely tethered and returned to the fire. He looked over at the little Stark wolf finally sleeping after reciting her fucking list and questioned again why he had been saddled with this responsibility. He’d thought it would be easy to take the child to her mother, collect his reward and then be on his way across the Narrow Sea to Pentos. Instead he was stuck on a moor with no money, no food, no bloody wine and a dangerous little bitch who he suspected would try to slit his throat the moment he slept…but she hadn’t, not after that first try with the rock and certainly not since her family’s murder at the hands of those bastard Freys and then to lose a second chance when her aunt was also dead. He’d rather be a fucking Ironborn than related to this family at the moment. She’d laughed at him when they’d found out; he’d learned enough about her to know she never cried and didn’t try to understand what was going on in her head but he did feel compassion for the girl. 

He prodded the fire some more. Sympathy and tenderness were about as much use as a limp cock in a whorehouse out here. The wound on his neck was burning and he was sweating even though it was cold but he ignored it. Arya rolled over in her sleep and began to mumble and mutter.

Esther was walking through the snow-covered orchard of her convent again and she tensed in her dream, knowing what was coming. She pushed open the doors into the hall expecting to see her Sisters’ bodies strewn over the room but instead she found it empty with the fire roaring in the hearth. She walked towards it and felt its warmth. She heard the doors open behind her and turned to see Arya cautiously walking through.

“What are you doing here?” the girl asked, as confused as Esther was.

“This is my convent and my dream.” Esther answered.

“No, I’m dreaming.” Arya said and Esther raised her eyebrows in surprise, this was new.  
At that moment an inhuman wind howled through the room and the fire went out; Esther shouted a warning as a White Walker appeared and raised the ice sword above her. She shouted again and raised her arms, her power came spewing out in a blue black stream and grasped the White Walker at the same time as it grabbed at Arya who drew Needle and plunged it through the hand. The White screamed…

Esther woke with a start just in time to see her power curve back to her outstretched hand. Even by the weak moonlight she could see the glints of the frozen ground where her power had earthed itself in the dream. She sat up and shakily rolled herself another cigarette. She patted her pockets for a flint to light it but couldn’t find one. Shrugging, she held her finger to the end and the smoke glowed red; it seemed she was becoming very used to using her power.

Arya’s shout woke Sandor and he opened his eyes to see the girl on her feet, slashing at the air with that toothpick of hers. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” he growled.

“Where is it? Can you see it?” she demanded, still twisting round every which way.

“See what?”

“The White Walker?” Arya shouted at him.

Sandor laughed as the girl started to calm down.

“Did you have a nightmare? Did the little Lady have a bad dream but her nanny wasn’t there to make it all better?” Sandor watched as Arya flung herself down in anger and turned her back on him.

“My aunt was there as well.” she said.

“Your aunt’s dead just like everyone else in your family.” he said, settling back down on his bedroll.

“No.” said Arya, “My other aunt.” and smiled evilly as she heard Sandor sit up again.

Arya was certainly not stupid and she wasn’t blind or deaf either. She’d heard The Hound, on occasion, muttering in his sleep about dark eyes, red hair, magic and she’d come to the conclusion that he was dreaming about her aunt. Why he was still thinking about her was a mystery to Arya, he hadn’t seemed to like her aunt much and she hadn’t spoken to him. 

She lay back and thought about her dream; it had seemed so real, she could still remember the warmth from the fire but why had her aunt been there? She’d only spent a few days with her aunt and they hadn’t spoken much. In fact, Arya had tried to forget about the strange woman who’d had such an effect on the others. She’d abandoned her just like everyone else anyway, just before the Brotherhood had sold Gendry and she’d escaped them…that had been before her mother and Robb had been murdered and she’d added a few more names and crossed off others from her list. But Arya didn’t know why she was dreaming about Esther now.

Esther heaved her bag onto her back and set off again before it was light. The rain kept away but the sky was heavy and the wind was still bitter.

It took her a long time to climb a rocky ridge and she was starving by the time she made it. She saw a curve of boulders about a mile off and headed towards that, hoping they would offer some shelter where she could eat. 

Esther pulled herself up over a large boulder and froze. A few yards away was a small figure practising with a slim sword. She watched for a moment until the child pivoted and faced her. 

“You?” said Arya and Esther nodded.

“Me.” she replied.

“Who the fuck is that?” rasped a voice from behind the rock.

“My aunt.” replied Arya.

“Seven hells!”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Hound, he gets so battered in this programme - I hope there is a happy ending in the works. Again, thank you for reading and please let me know what you think if you can.

“…and then Biter bit him but he snapped his neck and I killed Rorge who was on my list even though I didn’t know his name. Then we went to The Eyrie but Aunt Lysa was already dead and then you found us.” Arya took a deep breath having not spoke this much for a long while and watched as Esther peeled back the dressing on The Hound’s neck and recoiled at the smell.

“It’s gone bad.” she said matter of factly and put her hand on Sandor’s burning forehead. He batted it away and glared at her but she ignored him.

“This should have been cauterised.”

“I offered but he wouldn’t let me.” Arya said.

“No fire.” The Hound growled and Esther shook her head.

“Arya fetch my bag please. In it you will find a small, clay jar sealed with red wax and one sealed with green, and for fuck’s sake don’t drop them.” and she watched as the girl went off. She sat back on her heels.

“So, you watched over her, did you?” she asked.

“Someone had to” replied Sandor, “her family’s dead…or missing, no other fucker was around.” and he watched as she had the good grace to look away. Arya returned with the clay jars and her bag over one shoulder. Esther rootled about for a clean cloth but couldn’t find one to her satisfaction. She closed her eyes and sighed.

“I’m going to have to improvise.” she said and proceeded to undo her jacket and unbutton her thick overshirt.

“What the hell are you doing?” asked Sandor?

“My undershirt was the last clean thing I owned and I only put it on yesterday so I’ll have to use that.” and she shrugged off the overshirt and stood in a cotton vest, shivering in the wind, “you don’t have to look!” she snapped and pulled the vest over her head and quickly shuffled back into the previous layer but not before Sandor had seen her white skin, smooth and unscarred, quickly turning blue in the cold. He closed his eyes.

“Cut this into strips.” she ordered Arya and turned back to Sandor.

“This is going to hurt, a lot.” she warned him and he nodded.

First she washed her hands in the boiled water she always carried and cut away the clumsy stitching and pulled the threads. Then, with the tip of a very clean knife, she lifted the flaps of skin around the bite mark.

“I’m going to have to cut away some of this rot.” she said quietly.

“Do it.” he said.

“I can take the pain away, you know I can, you’ve seen it” she whispered but he shook his head; she abided by his wish.

As she cut away at his flesh he concentrated on her; she was so close to him that he could smell her hair and skin even under the smell of rot and blood. Occasionally her arm or cheek would brush against the good side of his face or he’d feel the warmth of her breath when she gave Arya an instruction or sighed in frustration. Finally she was done and washed out the wound. Sandor had not moved or made a sound throughout the whole procedure.

“Is that it?” asked Arya, who had been watching closely.

“No.” answered Esther, “The next bit is going to be worse.”

She carefully cut the red seal of wax and poured a few drops of a thick, green liquid into a tiny bowl and instructed Arya to seal it up again.

“But don’t get any on your skin or breathe too deeply.” she ordered.

She then unsealed the green wax and poured a larger measure of a clear, viscous liquid into the same bowl.

“What’s that?” asked Arya, peering over Esther’s shoulder.

“Distilled Maticore poison and sap from the GreenPyke tree.” and Esther pushed the girl away.

“But they’re both poisons!” said Arya and Esther nodded.

‘However in the right quantities and heated to the right temperature, they make an excellent ointment to stop infections. Hurts like a fucking bastard though, you might wish you’d gone with fire instead.” she directed at Sandor.

“No fire.” he repeated and she sighed again and placed the bowl in the centre of the flames.

“Watch that.” she ordered Arya, “and count to 270 saying ‘Lannister scum’ between each number, don’t lose count or you’ll have to do it all again.” Arya sat cross-legged in front of the fire and watched the bowl fiercely, counting under her breath.

Esther knelt back down by Sandor and put her hand back on his forehead, this time he let her.

“You didn’t seem bothered when she was talking about all the men she’d killed. I thought high-born ladies didn’t like that sort of thing.” he said as she held his wrist and felt his pulse.

“Sounds to me like all the men she killed deserved it, sentiment will get you killed quicker than anything else in this day and age.” Esther answered and Sandor nodded.

“Your pulse is unsteady, the infection may have gone into your blood.” she looked over at Arya who was still watching the bowl and counting under her breath.

“I’ll be fine, just get on with it.” he growled and she turned back to him.

“Let me take the pain away, please.” she said quietly and ducked her head to look into his eyes.

“No. No magic. I don’t fucking trust it” and he lowered his eyes away from her intense stare.

“You’re a big, stubborn bastard.” she said and gave him a rare smile.

“It’s done.” called Arya and Esther took the small tongs and, with great care, carried the bowl over to Sandor.

“Move away.” she told Arya who did not argue but still watched from a distance. She got a wooden spatula from the bag and stirred the mixture; a brown tinged steam rose and Esther turned away but it still made her cough and heave. She lifted the spatula and thick ooze slid off the side; a burning smell emanated from where it hit the grass that quickly burned brown.

“Don’t bite through your tongue.” she said and spread a tiny amount on the top of the bite.

Arya had never heard a cry of pain like it, not even during the torture at Harrenhall. His roar echoed round the hills and seemed to come back to them even louder and lasted a long time. He strained to get away from his own skin; Esther struggled to hold him down but, weakened as he was, he still managed to get half way up. Arya went to help her.

“No! Stay back!” she shouted and swung her legs over him until she had all her weight on his legs and pushed down on his shoulders until he began to stop struggling. His breathing was ragged and his mouth twisted as he gritted his teeth.

He opened his eyes and gripped her waist too tight; she nodded and he returned it. Esther closed her eyes and sought out the pain.

She reached into Sandor and found thick seams of pain running through him; so deep and all encompassing was it that she had trouble finding the right ribbon. Some were old, coloured a deep red that went so far back that she doubted if he even remembered why they were there. A wide purple band wound its way through all of them and it tasted of burnt flesh. She continued searching, she passed memories from his childhood, hopes he’d long since abandoned; a newer stream that tasted of hope and, for some reason, chicken; then she found the bright green slice of this new pain. She unpicked it and carried it away.

She opened her eyes and cupped one hand over another and stood up very carefully. Arya watched as her aunt walked over to the fire and opened her hands over it. The fire flamed a poisonous green and then went back to normal; she turned back to Sandor who was breathing normally and looked like he was asleep.

Esther spread the rest of the mixture over the wound, packed and bound it with the clean cloth and then reached into him again. He was at peace and sleeping deeply.

She stood up and began packing away the detritus of the operation.

“What did you do to him?” Arya asked.

“I took his pain and burnt it in the fire.” Esther replied and carried on.

“How can you do that?” she continued and Esther shrugged.

“I don’t know how I can do that, I just see the pain and get rid of it.”

“Can all Moontide Sisters do that?”

“No, some can lessen pain but only after years of practise, no-one has found a record of anyone being able to do what I do.” Esther moved towards the fire and tried to warm her frozen bones.

“So you’re special?” Arya asked and Esther looked at her sharply, catching the derisive tone.

“Yes I’m special and it’s led to a life full of gold and roses. Never forget you are an ignorant child in the presence of your elder.” she snapped and Arya closed her mouth and sat silently by the fire. 

Esther spent the rest of the day periodically checking the sleeping man and staring into the fire. Arya went a little way off to practise her swordsmanship and she was glad, she didn’t feel like talking.

Finally Arya came back to the fire that was smoking from the moss that was all they had to burn and Esther could see she had something to say.

“I’m sorry.” Arya said and Esther nodded.

“I’ve made stew.” Esther said and pointed to the small but bubbling cauldron in the fire. The girl poured herself a bowl and sat down.

“It’s good.” Arya said, spooning more into her mouth.

“You sound surprised.” Esther said wryly and poured more into the girl’s bowl. She watched Arya and was suddenly reminded of herself as a child, the memory was so strong it was almost painful.

“So then niece of mine, tell me your story.” and Arya began to speak and then couldn’t stop.

It was dark by the time she had finished and Esther rolled her fifth cigarette.

“I need a drink.” she said and pulled a leather flask from her bag and took a healthy swig. Arya was staring at her with those huge eyes so she offered her the flask. Arya sipped and then coughed.

“What’s that?” she asked, wiping her mouth.

“Whisky” Esther said through a smile, “From my convent.” Arya tentatively took another sip.

“Tastes like the sea” she said and Esther held her hand out for the flask, which Arya returned reluctantly.

“What are your plans?” Esther asked and the girl shrugged, back on the defensive again.

“I’m going to my convent…you’re welcome to join me in the journey north and then decide what you want to do.”

“You won’t try to stop me if I want to leave?” Arya asked.  
“No I won’t, your life’s your own and you’ve done well enough without me…but you told me Jon was at The Wall, you could carry on to him…or you could go to Braavos, see if you can find your Jaqen H’ghar and join the Faceless Men.” she watched the conflict crossing Arya’s face like shadows on a hillside.

“I might travel with you for a while.” she said finally, “but what about him?” and she pointed at The Hound.

“Hmmmm…I don’t know, he might join us, it would be easier if he did. I think he might be part of this thread…but I can’t see it clearly.” Esther paused and Arya didn’t answer but she also didn’t refuse to travel with him either. They heard him move and Esther heaved herself to her feet and went over.

“You’re awake.” she stated and he grimaced at her.

“…drink…” he croaked and she passed him a flask of water, he took a mouthful but then spat it out.

“…wine…”

“No wine, no alcohol. You can have water or go thirsty.” she said firmly and he glowered at her but took the water. She put her hand on his forehead and took his pulse.

“You’re a tough son of a bastard.” she said, “the fever’s gone and you look better already.”

“…feel like shit…” he said and drank more water.

“That’ll teach you to let your guard down in a fight with someone called Biter.” she said and he glared at her again, “are you hungry?” and he nodded so she bought him a bowl of the stew. 

They stayed where they were that night, nobody felt like moving. Arya was asleep almost before she finished reciting her list and Esther kept the fire burning and watched the clouds move across the sky and fell asleep a few hours before dawn. She didn’t dream.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I did say it was a slow burn but I don't think I thought it would be this slow! This has come to the end of what I've written so far but I will update when the next bits have been written. Thank you (and congratulations for making it this far) and please let me know what you think if you can.

It was slow going through the marshes over the next few days. The weather was against them, there was little dry wood and their meagre food supplies were dwindling. Mostly they walked in silence, none of them being the most talkative of people. When it got dark they would do their best to find a sheltered spot, Esther would check The Hound’s wound even though he protested vigorously every time and Arya would practise with her sword or search for dry wood.

“Fuck it!” shouted Esther as the wind blew the precious kindling out for the third time and The Hound gave a snort of laughter, which only made her angrier. She glared at the fire and it burst into a flame and she heard a satisfactory intake of breath from him. She sat down and regarded him over the rim of a water cup and sighed, it had been a long, cold and very damp day.

“We need to find some sort of civilisation.” she said.

“No, it’s not safe.” The Hound replied and carried on sharpening a knife.

“We have no food, no money, the weather is getting worse and if I have to spend another night on damp moss listening to you snore your way to morning I swear I will burn this whole fucking country to the ground.”

“No.” The Hound repeated without looking up. Esther narrowed her eyes and rolled a cigarette ignoring the rising panic that her tobacco supply was getting dangerously low.

“It will take me less than a day to earn enough for us to sleep somewhere dry for the night, eat a hot meal and buy supplies…including wine.” and she watched as he stopped sliding the whetstone along the blade. She knew it was a shitty manipulation of him but she desperately wanted to get off the moor if only for a night; after all, what could happen that the three of them couldn’t manage?

“We can be in and out in a day and a night. I will scout the place out before you and the girl come through and if I think there will be any trouble we can move on.”

“Which town?” he asked and she grinned to herself.

“The nearest village to Moat Cailin and on our path is Lovell-under-Wychwood.”

“Never heard of it.” he said dismissively.

“That’s a good thing isn’t it?” she asked and he grunted but didn’t argue anymore.

Esther blew out a plume of smoke and silently congratulated herself for not losing her temper.

“Is there anything to eat?” asked Arya, sitting down and holding her hands over the fire to warm them up.

“Here.” said Esther handing her the last bit of the bread’s stale heel and piece of cheese so hard you could shave with it and some leathery bacon; The Hound had eaten his share in two bites.

“This is the last of the food?” Arya looked reluctant to take it.

“It is but I’m going to get money and supplies tomorrow, we might even get to spend the night somewhere dry.” said Esther and was gratified to see Arya’s look brighten.

The Hound watched Esther hand over the last of the food. It hadn’t just been the thought of a dry bed and a proper drink that led him to agree to her request; he had known that she was sacrificing her share of the food to him and the little wolf. She hadn’t eaten properly for days and she barely slept. Whatever she had done to his neck was working, he was almost back to full strength but it had taken its toll on her. She was even paler than before, her eyes even darker and larger; her roundness had gone and the otherworldliness grew more each day, so he had agreed to go through one of the towns. She needed it as much as they did.

Esther didn’t look back as she headed towards the road; they had agreed to give her the day and they would join her in the tavern when it got dark. Arya began to practise with her sword again as the wind blew the white clouds and the sun shone for the first time in days.

“What the hell you doing?” asked The Hound as she watched her dance round.

“Practising.” she snapped.

“What, ways to die?” he asked.

Esther walked into the village just as it was beginning to get busy. She was surprised there were so many people around considering the countryside was being ravaged by war, it was as if the news hadn’t reached them. It was a neat village with a main thoroughfare lined with cottages; there was a smithy, a tavern called The Fox and Hare and an ostler attached who was mucking out the 3 small stables. A few people nodded to her, recognising the uniform of a Moontide Sister. She headed into the tavern and was gratified to see it was clean and didn’t smell of sour beer and piss. A large and attractive woman of about 45 with huge breasts that strained against her apron and an expression that suggested she liked a laugh looked up.

“How do?” she said warmly using the traditional greeting of the marshes.

“Be well.” replied Esther using the traditional answer.

“Been a long time since we had a Moontide Sister in these parts, you’ll be busy.” the woman said and poured a mug of ale and passed it to Esther who gratefully took it. The woman looked her up and down.

“You look young for a Moontide.” she said doubtfully

“I’m old enough.” Esther answered, “and I’m all you’re going to get for a while.” The woman seemed to think about it and then come to a conclusion and offered her hand.

“I’m Aggie and this place is mine since my man died 10 year ago.” and Esther took the woman’s warm hand.

“I’m Esther. Is there a place where I can set up?” she asked.

“You can use the barn out the back, it’s not fancy but it’s got clean straw and a roof and door. You go through and I’ll spread the word you’re here. Will you have some food?” and Esther nodded gratefully. 

Esther finished cleaning the table Aggie had got the ostler, known as Toothless Joe, to bring in and set out her tools; before she had time to finish there was a knock on the door and Joe poked his head through.

“You’m be gettin’ a queue already Mistress.” and Esther sighed, it would be a long day.

By lunchtime, Esther had already seen 40 people. There was a cough going round the children of the marshes and many had already died; it was hacking and phlegmy and most of them died because they couldn’t catch their breath. She gave them a mixture to bring down the fever and told the parents to boil water with pine needles in and make the children breath the steam. Lots of the old ones came to see her with inflamed joints made worse by the damp and she rubbed them with the stinking but highly effective goose grease and wintergreen ointment. The long summer had caused the FenFever to become rife so she prescribed the boiled willow bark tea. Some of them came with venereal diseases brought back from travels outside the marshes. Young women came to see her about their trouble and she did what she could. Every one of them gave what they could; some gave her coin, others a precious piece of jewellery, others gave her a piece of good cloth or clothing, others could only give a small jar of pickles or a few apples but she accepted it all, to do otherwise would insult them and her.

She heard Aggie shooing the people away, telling them to come back after the Sister had eaten something. She came through the door with a huge plate of bread and white cheese, a jug of ale and 2 mugs. She lowered herself onto a stool and Esther gratefully sank onto the other.

“How bad be it out there?” she asked, meaning the rest of Westeros.

“Bad.” said Esther through a mouthful of good food.

“We hear stories but we be out of the way and the road often floods. We be lucky.” 

“I hope you stay lucky.” said Esther and Aggie nodded.

“Where you be travelling to then?” Aggie asked, pouring the ale.

“North. I’m taking my…brother and daughter to Sea Dragon Point before Winter comes.”

“You’ve a long journey ahead of you then.” and Esther nodded, regretting the lie she had to tell this woman, “where be your brother and child?”

“They’ll join me later today.”

“After you checked we were safe?” Aggie smiled but stared hard at Esther who smiled back.

“You be staying tonight?”

“Yes, if that’s alright with you? We can sleep in the stable.” she added.

‘You’ll do no such thing, I’ve got 2 rooms upstairs going begging and you’ll eat properly tonight and I won’t accept no payment. You be sent by the Seven I’m sure.” and again Esther smiled but doubted the Seven had anything to say about anything.

 

Esther saw even more people that afternoon; word had spread of her arrival and people were coming from all over the marsh. The queue began to die down as night fell and she finished just as the first lamps were lit. She packed up and headed into the tavern, tired but satisfied.

Arya poked her split lip with her tongue and glared at The Hound’s back as they walked into the village. How dare he say those things about Syrio? What did he know about sword skill, he was just a murderer with a big bloody sword? She was also angry that there might be a grain of truth in what he said, armour might be useful sometimes.

Sandor pushed open the tavern door and the whole room went silent at the sight of a huge and filthy soldier entering. Esther looked up from her perch by the fire.

“Brother!” she shouted a little too loudly and saw a look of confusion cross his face but was grateful he didn’t say anything, “and daughter!” she added quickly and crossed the busy room. She grabbed both of them by the arm and drew them to a relatively quiet corner near the back.

“We’ve got 2 rooms for tonight, coin, food, clothes and Aggie’s roasting us some chickens.” she whispered, “I’ve told them you’re my brother and daughter and we’re heading the Sea Dragon Point before the Winter.”

It was then that she noticed Arya’s split lip and grabbed her face to get a closer look.

“What happened?” she asked in a low voice not looking at The Hound.

“I…I was practising with my sword and…and I fell.” 

“You’re lying to me.” she said and dragged Arya over to the fire where Aggie was serving up the food.

“Aggie, this is my daughter Cat. Cat this is Aggie, the owner. Sit by the fire and eat as much food as you can.” and she pushed Arya down onto the seat and walked back to where The Hound stood. Aggie stared after her but said nothing.

“Come with me.” she ordered and headed out to the stable not bothering to see if he followed.

He ducked his head to enter.

“Close the door.” said Esther quietly. He turned back round and Esther was standing right in front of him staring up at him.

“You hit her.” she stated quietly, “why?”

“She was noncing about with that toothpick of hers and I was trying to teach her that all the fancy foot work in the world won’t win against armour and a big fucking sword.” he answered.

Esther sighed and clenched her fists; she could feel her palms tingling but stamped on those feelings, this was not the time and they needed The Hound.

“You watched her and kept her safe when there was no-one else and that is the ONLY reason you are alive now. If you lay one hand on her again, I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” he interrupted her, “you’ll rip me apart like you did those men who were about to rape the other Stark girl? Or perhaps you’ll cut my throat while I’m asleep. Maybe you’ll poison me. Maybe you’ll make me disappear in a puff of fucking smoke. I might be a killer but at least I’m an honest one.”

“I’ve never lied to her.” countered Esther.

“No, you’re worse; you lie to yourself.” and he watched as her eyes grew huge with shock, “You pretend you are just a Moontide Sister. ‘Oh I don’t know where my power comes from.’” he mimicked, “But that’s a lie. You know exactly where it comes from and what you can do with it you just won’t admit it. You’re scared of it so you run and hide. You’ve been running and hiding for years instead of doing something fucking useful.”

Esther felt her skin tighten. She knew he was right and she hated him for it. She didn’t think she just reacted. She reached up before he had time to move and gripped his throat, the shadows around her became blue-black and ice crystals began to condense on the wood of the door.

“Do it.” he whispered, staring into her eyes, “do it. Kill me.” The shadows darkened even further.

“Kill me.” he repeated, “Take my life if it will make you see the truth.” She carried on squeezing and he closed his eyes, feeling the darkness beckon. Suddenly the pressure was released and he gulped down air. The light returned to the stable and the ice began to melt. He saw Esther leaning on the table with her back to him.

“Weak.” he said scornfully and she turned to face him.

“I’m not weak. I’ve been told all my life that I’m dangerous and must be kept away from people. I don’t know what I’m capable of; I’ve never let myself find out. I…I change when I don’t control myself. Bad things happen.”

He crossed the acres of ground between them. Gripping her wrists together, he forced her to look up at him.

“This world is full of cunts doing bad things; you can stop them. Don’t be such a fucking coward.” 

She stepped forward until the length of her body was against his and lowered her arms until he was leaning close into her, he didn’t let go.

“Are you one of those cunts?” she whispered against his lips.

“I was.” he replied and she pressed her lips against his. He let go of her wrists and tried to push her away but she hooked her fingers into his belt and held him fast. He held his hands away from her for as long as he could but he could feel her warmth through his clothes, her mouth was hot and hard against his and she smelt of bonfires and the sea and winter. He wrapped his hands around the back of her head and pulled her in even closer. She broke the kiss and stared at him with eyes almost black and in them he saw his burnt and hideous reflection. He looked down at her flushed face with soft skin, a full and pink mouth, red hair that was like fire and violently pushed her away, she didn’t want a monster like him. Before she could say anything he had left in search of wine and oblivion.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's some bad language, lady fun and violence in this chapter just so as you know. I'm trying to keep the Scooby gang moving as quickly as they can.Thank you so much for reading this and leaving kudos, please let me know what you think if you can

Pushing open the door to the tavern, Esther searched the crowded and smoky room to make sure The Hound was not there; he was nowhere to be seen. Arya was where she’d left her so she joined her by the fire.

“What happened?” Arya asked through a mouthful of bread.

“Nothing.” Esther replied flatly and rolled a cigarette, staring silently into the fire, Arya wisely decided not to question any further and went back to eating. Aggie shoved a bowl under her nose but Esther ignored it.

“You’ll be wanting more tobacco and papers.” Aggie stated and Esther looked up as if noticing her for the first time and nodded.

“I’ll talk with a man I know.” and smiled but didn’t get a response. A tall and skinny man who looked like a reed, standing behind Esther, laughed, threw his head back and with it poured most of his beer down her back; she gritted her teeth and frowned. Arya nearly dropped her food when the man got to the bottom of his mug, looked down into it, let out a strangled cry and ran out of the tavern clutching his throat. Esther gave a tight smile and felt a little better. Aggie returned with a parcel of waxed paper and dropped it into Esther’s lap and then handed her a horn cup.

“Enough baccy there to last you a while and some beetbrew, that should lighten your mood.”

“Why’s it in a horn cup?” asked Arya, peering over her shoulder.

“Because it eats through metal.” Aggie said, “and you best be thinking about going to bed young Cat, I reckons your mother and me will be up and messy tonight.”

“I don’t want to go to bed.” Arya said, pouting and looking, for the first time since Esther had met her, like the child she was. Aggie shrugged and sat down.

She took a huge drink of the sweet and earthy beetbrew. Esther was staring moodily into her own mug.

“What’s gone on?” Aggie asked and Esther sighed.

“My…brother made a poor decision and I just made an even poorer one.” and she finally drank.

“We all make bad decisions my leof. You just go on.”

“I know, I know. Don’t mean I have to like it.” Esther replied.

“Can you make it better?” Esther sighed and drank some more. Aggie regarded the woman in front of her; there had been many pass through the tavern over the years and most had been unremarkable but this one was different. She was outlined in the light of the fire but the shadows seemed darker behind her. Aggie was more than aware there were things in the world that she couldn’t ever understand and she was happy with that, she understood people and that was enough. Watching Esther watching the child to make sure she was eating enough, that she was all right, that she was safe, Aggie was moved. She’d seen Esther work all day to cure the sick, care for the forgotten and help the people so often left behind; she’d seen the woman sacrifice her comfort for her family and it had obviously take it’s toll on her. Underneath the grubby clothes and dirt there was a fascinating and attractive woman, her red hair and pale skin glimmered but it was her eyes that Aggie couldn’t look away from. Huge and brown, flecked with green, amber in some light and black brown in others and she weren’t the only one to notice. Most of the men and a fair few of the women had come away from Esther stunned and agape. Aggie thought the woman probably put it down to her healing but it weren’t just that. 

Aggie drank some more and narrowed her eyes at Esther. If that big bastard was her brother then Aggie was the queen of Essos. She’d seen him look at her when they’d entered the tavern, his eyes running all over her to check she was whole and there. He’d followed her out like the loyal, old hunting dog her father had kept for years. There was a man who was in torment and no mistake. She thought she’d seen a flush in Esther’s face as well.

“So when are you going to fuck that huge bugger who definitely ain’t your brother?” Aggie asked, stuffing her pipe and lighting it with a taper.

“I’m going to bed.” Arya said and left.

“Never.” answered Esther and took a gulp from her cup. Her mouth was instantly coated with sweetness and enough alcohol to fell a wildling.

“Why not? He be a fine big man, even with them scars.” Aggie puffed on her pipe some more.

“He was the King’s bodyguard now there’s a price on his head. His crimes are the stuff of nightmares…mine aren’t too far behind. There’s something coming and I think we’re to play a part in it.” Esther rolled another cigarette and drank some more beetbrew. Aggie nodded and drank.

“That’s as maybe but you tell me nothing that says why you don’t fuck.” 

“I’m old enough and wise enough to know there is a time and a place and this isn’t it.”

“Strikes me you just making a shite situation worse.” Aggie regarded her through the smoke, “when was the last time you had some fun?”

“When did this summer begin?” Esther asked and they both laughed and then drank some more. Esther looked closely at Aggie, a very beautiful woman, only a few years older than her, soft and fragrant. Her dark hair pulled off a round face, luscious dark skin and full lips.

Sandor had grabbed the first full jug he could find and barged his way out into the night. He drank until the pain was less sharp and continued drinking until he could barely stand. He weaved his way back to the lights of the tavern and pushed open the door. The room had emptied of customers; there was only Esther and Aggie in front of the fire, their naked bodies locked in passion outlined by the flame’s light.

Aggie was warm and soft and excruciatingly good. Her fingers and tongue made Esther’s body crackle and spark. When they were done, Esther felt contentment for the first time in a long while. She lay back in Aggie’s soft arms and closed her eyes

He didn’t want to think about what he had seen; he drowned in his furious jealousy. The easy way they had tangled their bodies, he could hear their passion. There was no sleep for him that night.

It was the shout of the ostler that woke Arya; Esther was already at the window.

“What is it?” Arya whispered.

“3 men with horses, no House colours. We need to get going, pack up the things.”

Esther opened the door to Sandor’s room; he was spread-eagled on the bed, still dressed.

“We’re leaving.” she said and left the door open.

Aggie was waiting for them with a pack of food.

“Take them horses with you.” she ordered.

“Don’t need more trouble.” rumbled Sandor.

“Oh there won’t be no trouble from those 3; last time they came through, Toothless Joe’s niece was raped. They won’t be leaving, we got something planned for them.”

Arya looked up the road and saw a crowd of Fenlanders with farming tools that were simple until they were turned into a weapon.

“We’re leaving.” Esther said quickly and put her arms round Aggie and whispered her thanks, Sandor looked away.

Esther regarded the grey horse with suspicion; Arya and Sandor had already mounted and were waiting impatiently.

“Fuck’s sake woman, just get on the damn thing.” Sandor said and Esther glared at him.

“Can’t you ride?” Arya asked, echoing her sister.

‘Of course I can.” snapped Esther and shoved her foot in the stirrup. After an awful lot of swearing Esther was finally sat in the saddle and looked at her travelling companions who were staring at her with a mixture of horror, pity and disbelief.

‘Are you sure you’re a Stark?” asked Sandor and Arya laughed.

“Shut your fucking mouths, both of you.” Esther growled and leant down to the horse’s ear.

“If you throw me off, you’re our meal for a week, do you understand?” the horse didn’t reply and Esther took that as a bad sign.

They travelled much faster on horseback and made excellent time that day. They passed the 3 remaining towers of Moat Cailin and entered The Barrowlands just as it was getting dark. 

Arya began to look through the bags and realised how much more they had since Lovell-under-Wychwood.

“Hey, there’s some…why are you still on the horse.” she asked, looking up at Esther.

“I…ummm…I…” Esther mumbled.

“Can you get down?” Arya was staring at her with unbelieving blue eyes.

“Where the fuck’s the food.” Sandor said, dropping the wood for the fire.

‘She can’t get down!” Arya said with far too much glee.

“From what?” Sandor looked confused.

“The horse!”

Sandor looked up to the sky, sighed and walked over to the docile horse.

“Unhook your feet.” he said.

“No, I’ll fall.” said Esther with her eyes closed. Sandor sighed and pulled her foot out of the stirrup.

“Stop!” she shouted and flailed at him helplessly.

“Pack that in woman!” he growled and grabbed her waist and pulled her off the horse. She hooked her hands round his neck and held on for dear life and wouldn’t let go even when she was on the ground, in the end Sandor had to unhook her hands himself.

She sat on the floor and rolled a cigarette, looking like she’d just survived a shipwreck.

“What in seven hells was that about?” he asked, trying to massage some feeling back into his neck.

“I’m not very good at riding a horse.” she mumbled.

“You’re a Stark.” he stated flatly.

“I know that.” she snapped, “and I was a constant source of amusement and disappointment to my father, brothers and sister, all of whom could ride better than they could walk. I just…never trusted horses.” she finished lamely. Sandor grunted and began to settle the horses. The grey nuzzled at him and he patted its flank, shaking his head at women, horses and the world in general.

They ate well that night and it improved all their moods. Arya listened to Esther’s story about how Ned had tried to teach her to ride and had got so frustrated with her he’d gone to smack her but hit the horse’s neck instead, the horse had bolted and she’d been taken past the Godswood before Ned and Benjen had caught up with her and got the horse under control.

“…I honestly thought Ben was going to throw up he was laughing so much, but Ned saw how scared I was and let me ride with him on the way back.” Esther looked into the flames and, for the first time, realised he was gone. Without thinking, she drew Arya to her put her arm around her, Arya didn’t pull away. Sandor watched in silence and thought about his own brother.

They rode for days through The Barrowlands. It was getting colder and the further north they went the more detached Esther became. Even though Arya had slowly started to trust her and Sandor had stayed with them, Esther felt herself slipping away.  
It was this distraction that allowed the group of Bolton soldiers steal up on them in the dark. They had grabbed Esther as she slept and her shout woke Sandor and Arya.

Esther threw her head back and the man dropped her, clutching his streaming nose. The clouds cleared a little and Sandor saw 9 of them, all great big fuckers with swords and a hungry look. Arya was on her feet, sword in hand. Esther backed up to join them and they faced the group.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell that’s the fuckin’ Hound!” one of them said.

“Wot the fuck are you doin’ up ‘ere?” said another.

“Dere’s a price on ‘is head, a hundred silver stags, we should take ‘im.” and the greed grew.

“You can fucking try but you’d better be sure you can.” growled Sandor.

“There’s 9 of us and you’ve got a woman and a child, what the fuck you gonna do?” said the first one, obviously the leader.

“Kill you and get back to sleep.” Sandor said.

“We’ll take you, take your woman and child, have our fun with them, plenty back at camp who like them young and this one…” and he pointed at Esther, “will be passed round til there’s nothing left to fuck.”

A skinny man with crooked teeth, to the left of Esther, gave a high pitched and girlish giggle, and it grated on Esther. She turned and raised her arm and the crack from his snapped neck echoed. The other men stared as his body fell to the floor. She turned to Arya who was looking at her in horror.

“Witch cunt!” the leader shouted and they attacked.

Esther grabbed the sword from the fallen man; she didn’t want to use her powers in front of Arya.

This was a mistake.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello...thank you for reading this, lots of graphic violence. I'm looking forward to and dreading the finale in equal measure. Please let me know what you think if you can.

Sandor took down 3 of them without breaking a sweat. They charged at him from all sides and he swung his sword in a huge circular motion, slicing through a neck, a torso and a spine. He didn’t stop to look at Arya or Esther, he did not have time, he had to trust they would know what to do. A huge bastard with a double-headed axe bore down on him and he brought his sword up to block the blow. His arms reverberated with the force but he recovered and ducked the second blow, grabbing the man by his leather jerkin and rammed his sword through his neck. The blood flooded his eyes; he wiped it away and moved onto the next man.

 

Esther faced the leader sword raised. He grinned through yellow, broken teeth.

 

“I’m gonna fuck you in two.” he said, weaving his sword through the air. Esther remained silent and watched his eyes and feet. He lunged forward and Esther parried his blow. He looked shocked but regained his balance.

 

“You bitch!” he said, grinning again, and ran forward. He slashed at her and she backed away, all the time watching his eyes and feet. He raised his sword and brought it down with force, she blocked it again and pivoted round slicing with her sword, catching the leader on his right side, she watched the blood gleam in the firelight. He looked at his hand, slick and wet. His grin faded and was replaced with rage.

 

Sandor watched dispassionately as the man’s guts spilled across his boots. He heard a shout from the left and saw Arya removing her sword from a man’s eye and wiping it on his arm. She turned to the next man.

 

The leader lunged forward and Esther only just managed to dodge out of the way. She gripped the sword with two hands and parried blow after blow. Her power kept trying to come to the surface but she forced it down, it felt like her skin was on fire. This distraction allowed the leader to deliver a punishing blow that knocked the sword out of her hand. She was defenceless and he moved in for the kill.

 

Arya span on her back foot and danced under the arm of a small man with red patches of loose skin on his face. She bent backwards and avoided the blade; she twisted round and pushed Needle through the flesh of his upper arm. He screamed like a girl and bared his teeth. He raised his sword above his head and Arya grinned, she stabbed Needle into his vulnerable armpit and twisted. He fell to the ground and his blood dyed the grass with its darkness.

 

Sandor sliced through another’s neck almost to the spine and kicked the body to the ground. He felt a blow land on his back and he roared. The young man who had hit him with the flat of his sword backed away in fear as the blood drenched monster turned. Sandor raised his sword and split the boy’s skull in two.

 

Esther scrabbled on the ground for the sword but the leader advanced. There was no grin on his face now, just pure rage. His sword looked like water in the fire, it rippled and seemed to fade in and out.

 

_burnhim…burnhim…burnthemmall…_

 

She moved backwards, watching him advance quicker and quicker.

 

_burnhim…burnhim…burn…_

 

He stepped forward and Esther let her power free.

 

Sandor saw the leader raise his sword to drop the deathblow to Esther. She lifted her hand.

 

The blue shadow came like a silent scream across the ground. It veined through the grass like a snake but travelled with speed. Sandor tried to move away but it reached him. He braced himself for excruciating pain but it whispered through him like a cool stream on a hot day and then it was gone, smoking its way towards Esther.

 

She leant down and placed her hand on the cold grass, as the leader appeared to move in slow motion. The shadow reached her outstretched fingers like a cat waiting to be stroked. She felt it bleed into her flesh and her wholeness returned. She aimed her hand towards the leader and released it.

 

The darkness was no longer a gentle caress, it was a dagger, a spear, it was death. It pierced the leader as the sword fell from his fingers, blood poured out of his mouth and eyes. He gripped his stomach as his clothes darkened with all the fluid in his body. He took a step back, into the fire. Esther’s terrifying smile was the last he saw before the flames roared into a blue gale around him and he became a blackened scream.

 

She fell back onto the ground and the shadow wrapped around her like a lover.

 

“Esther!” Sandor shouted, “Esther!” she did not respond and lay as the dead.

 

“Girl!” he shouted again and ran over the bodies to her. He lifted her up, brushing her hair away from her face.

 

“Girl…wake up Esther. It’s your girl, she’s hurt.” and Esther opened her eyes.

 

“It’s your niece.” he repeated and pulled Esther to her feet, dragging her over to where Arya was lying, still and cold. Esther stripped off Arya’s jacket and saw the blood seeping from a deep wound in her side. She felt desperately for a pulse but couldn’t find one.

 

“She’s gone.” Esther said quietly.

 

“Then bring her back.” Sandor replied, simply and Esther looked up at him.

 

“Bring her back.” he repeated but she shook her head, “if that fucking Red Priest can do it then so can you. Bring her back.” and he grabbed her by the waist and held her over Arya’s body.

 

Esther closed her eyes, feeling the reassuring weight of his arms still around her waist, and reached into Arya. It was black, so black that it seemed like there had never been any light. She went deeper and deeper until finally she saw a grey sliver fishtail away, she followed. Out of the corner of her eye she saw it again and grasped it. The sliver struggled like a bird plucked from the air but Esther refused to let it go. She pulled and the sliver became a ribbon, she kept on pulling bringing it back to the surface no matter how much it struggled.

 

Sandor watched as the blue shadow around Esther darkened and grew until she looked like she was drowning. Suddenly her eyes opened and she released the power. She stared as it flowed away into the night.

 

Turning back to Arya, Sandor could see that the girl had gone from cooling flesh to living again. Her clothes were still soaked with blood but the wound had closed, gone like it had never been.

 

“We need to go, now.” he said.

 

“She won’t wake up for a while.” Esther said in a voice that wasn’t quite there.

 

“Then we carry her. Those won’t be the only soldiers around.” he scooped Arya up with one arm and hoisted Esther to her feet with the other.

 

They travelled through the rest of the night. The blood cooled and hardened on Esther’s clothes but she used all her strength to stay in the saddle as they pounded across the ground, eating up the miles.

 

As the dawn broke the horizon Sandor finally reigned in his horse and stopped by the banks of a stream still running fast even though it was rimmed with ice. His arm had been wrapped around the sleeping Arya for the whole journey and he wasn’t sure he could move it without dropping her. Esther fell with little grace from the exhausted horse and reached up to take Arya. She gently placed her on the ground and spread out a bed roll, tucked the child into a blanket and checked she was still breathing. Sandor dismounted and hobbled the horses. Esther gathered the nearest firewood that was green and covered with moss. Sandor knew he didn’t need to comment on the fact it wouldn’t burn; he was in the presence of one of the most powerful witches the world had ever seen, he knew that now, green wood would pose little problem for her.

 

When the fire was burning merrily she staggered to the stream and saw her reflection in the water. Blood coated her face and clothes, her hands looked like she was wearing red leather gloves. She plunged them into the freezing water and began to scrub, red flowed away but it was still there. She shrugged off her jacket and over shirt and plunged her head and torso into the water, flinging it over her back, not caring about the cold. Sandor saw what she was doing and ran over.

 

“Stop that!” he ordered but she didn’t hear him, she could smell the blood. He grabbed her shoulders but she fought him; they both fell back with Esther on top of Sandor.

 

“I can smell it!” she struggled against him, he could feel the coldness of her through his armour.

 

“Stop!” he said again and wrapped his arms around her, both of them lying on the cold and wet ground. Esther struggled but couldn’t break his hold. She threw her head back and screamed and still he held onto her.

 

He could feel her heart beating like a caged animal and he never wanted to stop that feeling, it meant she was alive. She finally quieted and he pulled her up and dragged her to the fire. He wrapped her cloak around her, her undervest was soaked but so were the rest of her clothes, if she wore those she’d freeze.

 

When she stopped shivering so violently, he passed her the wineskin and she drank.

 

“You ever done that before?” he asked quietly, she passed him the wineskin and their fingers touched for a brief moment.

 

“No.” she answered.

 

“Was it the Lord of Light?” he looked at her as she thought and then shook her head.

 

“I think my power comes from the other side of the Light.” and he nodded, it made sense to him.

 

“Will you come to the convent with us?” she asked. His heart tightened, she’d never asked him for anything, there had been an unspoken agreement he would be with them until he wasn’t; now she needed him. He nodded and she gave him a extraordinary smile.

 

“Do they allow men?” he asked, drinking more of the wine and saw Esther look at him like he was stupid.

 

“Of course they do. We’re not a celibate order, never have been. My Mother Superior had a husband and a wife. We’re not bound by the ridiculous rules of your Andal society.” and for the first time in a very long time Sandor was shocked.

 

“Where is it?” he asked after a period of silence in which he did his best to digest this news. Esther narrowed her eyes.

 

“It’s meant to be a secret only a few outsiders ever know but I think you’ve earned the right.” and Sandor grunted.

 

“It’s on Skane.” she said.

 

“Seven hells!”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well...it's all over for another 10 months (so looooooong). The last two episodes have been stunning and I can't wait for next season (no...I really can't wait, it's a problem). So I shall try to soften the blow by writing this (it's so not enough). Anyway, thanks for reading and please let me know what you think. I know I keep saying the smut is coming (ha ha) and it is, but I do love delayed passion.

Arya opened her eyes and stretched. She winced at the tenderness in her side but pushed the blanket away and sat up.

Looking about, she realised she had no idea where they were.

"You're awake then." said The Hound, watching her with dark eyes.

"Where are we? What happened?" and her face screwed up in recollection of the dying man's last act, the feel of the dagger pushing its way into her flesh, catching on bone, piercing her liver. She wrenched up her shirt and ran her fingers over where there should be a gaping wound.

"She brought you back." he said and pointed at Esther who was sleeping, still wrapped in the cloak.

"How?" Arya asked, staring at The Hound who was running the whetstone over his blade.

"Fucked if I know but you were dead…now you're not. It's a gift you'd be best to not question."

Esther stirred and woke, stretching and running her fingers through her hair. She saw Arya was awake and crawled over to where she was sat. She pulled up her shirt and looked her over then she gripped the girl's face and looked into her eyes. Arya pushed her away and straightened her clothes.

"How do you feel?" Esther asked.

"Fine." Arya replied and she really meant it, nothing had changed inside her and she felt like she always did.

"What do you remember?" Esther refused to believe Arya. The girl frowned and tried to think back.

'I remember the fight and killing the man with Needle. I remember looking over to you and you'd lost your sword, I went to help you but he wasn't dead and he stabbed me…and then I woke up here."

"You remember nothing else?"

"There was something…a tree and a man…a door…" Arya shook her head as if to try to dislodge something but it was gone. She looked at Esther.

'I'm hungry." she said and Esther released the breath she didn't know she had been holding.

"Where are we going?" Arya asked after she had eaten her fill.

"We're going to my convent. I need their help." Esther rolled a cigarette and tucked her legs further underneath herself.

"Why?"

"There is something coming. It's from beyond The Wall and it's terrible. But…" Esther blew out smoke and tried to find the right words, "other things are coming together to fight it back. I just…can't see the whole pattern yet…I need guidance."

"Where is it?" Arya shuffled closer to Esther.

"Skane." growled The Hound.

"I've heard of that. It's an island, it's almost as far north as The Wall." Arya said with trepidation.

"Further." The Hound grunted and Arya's eyes went even wider, "it's almost level with The Fist of the First."

"It's not." scoffed Esther and The Hound grunted again.

"We'll follow White Knife River over the Lonely Hills and pass between Last Hearth and the forests round Karhold. We cross the Bay of Seals and we're there." Esther said, knowing it was easier said than done.

"We'll be near Winterfell." Arya said quietly.

"I know my love but it's too dangerous to go there. I promise you will see it again…just not now." and Esther hoped she wasn't lying to the girl.

The sky was clear and dark, the stars looked like spilled salt and it was cold. Esther rolled another cigarette and tried to squash the feeling that the journey was insurmountable. Arya had rolled herself in the blanket again and was asleep.

"That's a bastard of a journey." said The Hound.

"I know." replied Esther.

"The Umbers and the fucking Karstarks have sworn fealty to the Boltons…" here Sandor stopped to spit, "we'll need to be stay hidden."

"I know." repeated Esther.

"Be even more difficult with the little Stark." he continued, feeling the proverbial ice creak underneath him.

"I'm a Stark too." Esther snapped, "we don't have a choice and if you're too scared to come with us then you can fuck off."

"I was the only one who stayed with her when she had no one else. You pissed off at the first sign of trouble; her fucking brother and mother got themselves killed by fucking Freys and no other cunt was looking out for her." He countered.

"And that gives you a voice does it? You did the right thing? Well done, for the first time in your life, you did the right thing. I heard stories about you, about what you did during Robert's Rebellion. You think one good deed wipes that slate clean?" she hissed her anger at him.

"You do." he said, standing up and Esther was aware of how powerful he was, he was hugely outlined against the sky; she stood up too and they faced each other.

"I am nothing like you." Esther tried to keep her voice low.

"You kill, you enjoy it, and you enjoy the power it gives you."

"No, I'm a Moontide Sister, I heal people."

The Hound reared his head and flashed a dangerous look.

"You're a killer."

"And you're just like your brother…" she hissed.

Some words can't be taken back, once they are out in the world they are there forever.

Esther knew the power of words and she instantly regretted saying that to him but there was no way to pull them back in. They hung in the air between them like an anchor dragging them down. He walked away from her and she couldn't…wouldn't follow him. In her heart she knew he was partly right but that didn't mean she was about to weaken her position by admitting it.

Her words sliced him to the core, he was nothing like his brother, nothing. What the fuck did that bitch know about anything? Fucking Moontide Sister, she was a liar. He should go, leave them, let them get taken by the fuckers out there that were worse than him.

He didn't leave…he stayed.

The journey was long and cold. Their food and supplies were bolstered by Esther's work as a Moontide Sister but the villages were getting further apart and the weather crackled with cold. The rift between Esther and The Hound didn't close, if anything it widened. She became harder, more cruel and her power grew. She could bring those that were near death back with little effort, fire and ice obeyed her command. Her horse grew more skittish even though they had travelled many miles together, as if it could sense her otherworldliness.

They passed Last Hearth as the snow fell. Arya and Esther were coping well with the weather, Northerners were born to this climate but The Hound was a Southerner, an Andal, more used to the long summers and clement sky of Casterley Rock. He huddled closer to the fire and wrapped his cloak tighter.

"Here." said Arya and he took the bowl of thin soup from her. They had formed an uneasy alliance, she still recited her list every night and The Hound was still on it but…perhaps he had earned the right to live, perhaps.

Esther was dozing on the other side of the fire, her head dropping onto her chest.

She was walking through the convent gardens in winter. Snow hung heavy on the skeletal trees and fog silenced the surrounding nature. She had seen no sign of anybody so she made her way through the sleeping fruit trees to the main hall. She heard the great fire that had burned all of her days she had lived there, tended by the Sisters night and day. She pushed open the great wooden door expecting to see everyone eating their midday meal with Mother Superior at the head of the table. The room was empty. A boy sat at the table, brown hair and eyes, there was something familiar about him.

"Hello." he said, sounding surprised.

"Hello." she replied, "I'm Esther."

"I'm Bran. Where am I?"

"You're at my convent."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Have you seen the Three-Eyed Raven?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, he's not of my magic."

"It's a bird not a man." the boy laughed.

"I think he's both. Will you come back here when you find him?"

"I'll try." he answered.

"I will see you soon Bran."

"I hope so Esther."

This time there was no White Walker, Esther simply opened her eyes and she was back on the hillside in the snow. She didn't tell Arya she had seen her brother, now was not the time.

They reached the tiny harbour that she had only ever seen twice in her life; once when she was a child met by the Mother Superior and taken over the sea to a place she didn't know and once when she was grown, leaving the only place she had ever felt at home. The few fishermen's cottages that ringed the grey harbour and the dark sea beyond were closed against the bitter weather. The sky was the grey of old washing and it threatened a gale. There was one boat moored in the harbour.

An older man, wiry and weathered, was talking with one of the fisherman and noticed the odd party of three approaching. He squinted against the wind. A face from across the years emerged from the gloom; older but unchanged, still angry, still fighting the fear, still clever and still searching for something. He knew what it meant that she was back but he was glad to see her, he'd missed her.

"Little Red." he said and opened his arms to her; she felt them go round her and for a moment she was peaceful, "you're coming back to us."

"For now." she said, muffled by his embrace.

"She'll be waiting for you." and Dai's heart broke a little as he thought of her face when the two women would meet again.

"Who's this then?" Dai asked, peering at The Hound and Arya.

"This is my niece and this is…this is Sandor Clegane." she said, not looking at him.

"Gor, you're a big man." Dai said and grasped Sandor's arm, he was surprised at the power in the older man's grip.

"And what about you?" he said to Arya, "Are you ready for a sea voyage?" and Arya nodded, not sure what to make of him yet.

"Good lass. Let's hope you're a better sailor than your aunt." and laughed hugely.

Dai had the help of a mute boy named Ando and a young woman wearing the uniform of a Moontide Sister novitiate. They rowed out of the harbour and opened the sail; it bellied out and they picked up speed.

They all had a separate cabin even though it was a small boat. Sandor and Arya collapsed onto their respective small beds and slept for a day, Esther did not.

Sandor emerged onto the deck feeling refreshed and looking for food.

"All right big man? Sleep well?" Dai asked as he checked their heading, Sandor grunted his reply.

"Andor, get the big man some food." and the boy scuttled away.

"You'll be looking for Little Red." he stated and pointed to starboard, Esther was leaning over the side noisily throwing up in the direction of the wind.

"I've never met a worse sailor. Try to make her drink something." Dai said through a grin and headed off to check the rigging.

"Oh fuck." said Esther and wiped her mouth, collapsing onto the deck. She saw Sandor approach but she was too weak to do anything other than sit there.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"He said you're to drink something." Sandor said and turned to see Andor hovering with a bowl of thick porridge and a spoon. He took them and the boy gave a strange bow and went back to Dai. Sandor spooned the creamy warmth into his mouth. Esther struggled to her feet as the smell of the food hit her and she puked again. Sandor kept eating.

He thought she would have thrown up everything inside her by now but she was still leaning over the side, letting out a groan every so often. It was getting dark and the temperature dropped even further and he'd had enough.

"Come on." Sandor said and hauled Esther up.

"Please, just let me die." she groaned.

"You're not going to die girl, it's just seasickness." he said as he dragged her towards the cabin.

"I'm dying." she whimpered and they passed Dai who was smoking a pipe. He watched them go.

"Make her take a drink." he called after them and shook his head. Andor sat by his side and he passed him the pipe, "never met a worse sailor." he repeated and the boy nodded solemnly.

Esther flopped onto the narrow bed and continued to pray for death.

"Here." said Sandor and pressed a flask to her lips, she spluttered as the fiery whiskey hit her stomach.

"No, drink." Sandor ordered as she pushed at his hand. When he was satisfied she had taken a little, he took a drink himself.

"I hate the sea." Esther stated and put her hand over her eyes.

"You're all right now." Sandor said and went to leave. Esther reached out and grabbed his arm. She pulled him down so that he was sat on the edge of the bed and she didn't let him go. She lay like a rag doll and he saw how vulnerable she looked. He remembered the nickname Dai gave her, she suited Little Red.

"I'm sorry." she said and more of his armour fell away, "I should never have said what I said all those weeks ago. You're…you're nothing like your brother…"

What could he do? He couldn't leave her; he'd seen her at her strongest and now he was seeing her at her weakest. She'd saved his life, he'd saved hers; he'd looked after her kin, he'd bled for her, she'd bled for them and here she was apologising to him. Didn't she know he'd lay down his life for her a thousand times? He was nothing and she was more powerful than anything he had ever seen. Yet she was hanging onto his arm like a lifeline.

"It's just the seasickness." he growled, not knowing what to do.

"I think I'm really dying." she said again.

"I've seen you bring down men double your size, you've brought the dead back to life, not even the sea can beat you." he said quietly and then took another drink, fearing he had revealed too much.

"Thank you…for staying with us." she said and he was now entirely defenceless, he had nothing left but the battered and scarred heart he thought he had lost years ago. She took the flask out of his hand and took a drink. Some of the colour had returned to her face. He pulled her hand away from his arm and left the room before he couldn't leave.

He met Dai on the deck and sat down heavily. Dai took the flask from his hand and took a long drink and then handed it back.

"They're hard on us." Dai said, watching the sails.

"Who?" he asked.

"The women who've chosen us. They'll rip your heart out and stick it back together in the same breath. But I promise you, big man, it's worth it. You'll never feel more alive." Sandor grunted again and took a drink.

"What would you know?"

"I was like you…a soldier…I fought for the Mad King before I knew the truth. When I saw him for what he really was and thought of all I'd done, I was ready to die. I drank and whored my way towards an early grave and I couldn't wait. I got into a fight with some Pentos sellswords and was cut from prow to stern. My woman found me, sewed me up and put me back together. I knew the first time I saw her that I'd follow her to the ends of the earth. You've got that same look." He searched Sandor's face and watched as the huge man dropped his gaze. Dai laughed hugely and clapped him on the back.

"Oh don't look so glum; like I said you'll never feel more alive."

Sandor took another drink and watched the boat cut through the waves.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I have finally got to the sexy times, not a huge amount, but more will follow. This chapter sort of got away from me and ended up being far longer than expected so thank you for reading and please let me know what you think if you can.

The second day was no better for Esther. The gale that threatened the day before skirted round them but it was still a very bumpy journey.

 

Arya had slept well in the warm cabin and she walked into the tiny galley looking for food. Andor was stirring a pot over and looked up when she came in.

 

“What is it?” she asked, looking at the fragrant liquid bubbling away. Andor put his hands together, as if in prayer, and then waggled them too and fro.

 

“Oh…fish stew?” Arya said, he nodded and smiled.

 

“Are you a good cook?” and he replied by vigorously nodding his head and putting his finger and thumb to his lips and kissing them. He poured her a bowl and she went up on deck to see what was going on.

 

“All right there lass? Did you sleep well?” Dai called down to her as he hung off the rigging like a monkey.

 

“Yes thank you. Where’s Esther?” she shouted up to him and he pointed to the side.

 

Her aunt was leaning over the rail, holding back her hair as the wind blew it around, throwing up. Arya walked over to her.

 

“Are you all right?”

 

Esther groaned, “no I’m bloody not and stay away from me with that food…oh balls…” and she threw up again.

 

Dai climbed down and put his hand on Arya’s shoulder and shook his head.

 

“I remember the first time your aunt travelled to the convent, she was younger than you. She didn’t want to leave home, didn’t want to travel on the back of a horse, didn’t want to go with us. We had to pick her up and put her on the deck; one Sister had to hold her arms and the other had to hold her legs so we could get under way without her jumping off the deck. As soon as the boat started to move, Little Red threw up all over the Sister holding her legs and oooohhhh she did not like that. That Sister was a sharp tongued one, no doubt, she smacked your aunt and told her not to be so silly. I remember like it was yesterday, Little Red looked her in the eye, looked down at the Sister’s uniform, looked her in the eye again and puked all over that Sister’s hair, face, clothes and shoes. I didn’t think such a tiny girl could have that much in her.”

Arya’s eyes were wide and she turned to look at Esther again who was still throwing up and groaning louder than before.

 

“You don’t seem to be troubled though…you must have salt in your blood somewhere. Do you fancy being look out for today?” and Arya nodded.

 

“Right climb up there to the crow’s nest and tell me if we’re about to hit anything; take this.” and he handed her a small but beautiful telescope. Arya climbed the network of ropes like she’d been born to it and spent the rest of the day fiercely keeping watch.

“Here.” came a gruff voice from behind Esther who was still heaving her insides into the sea and she turned to see Sandor holding out a steaming cup.

 

“What is it?” she asked feebly.

 

“Don’t know, the young lad handed it to me and pointed at you.”

 

“It can’t make me feel any worse.” and Esther took it from his large hand and drank it.

 

“Doesn’t taste of anything much.” she said and then, as he watched, her eyes fluttered, closed and she dropped like a stone.

 

“That’ll be Andor’s brew. Best thing for her.” Dai said as Sandor grabbed her before she literally hit the deck.

 

“What’s he done to her?” he asked, his hand immediately going to his sword.

 

“Well I don’t know what he puts into it, he won’t show me, but I know that she’ll be out for the next 2 days. He makes a very potent brew does our Andor. Best take her below and let her sleep it off, we should be nearly there by the time she wakes up.” and Dai watched as the huge, scarred soldier picked up Little Red as if she were made of glass and carry her towards the cabin. He shook his head at the memories it brought back and smiled.

 

Sandor laid the unconscious Esther out on the bed and thought about what to do next; should he take her boots off, her jacket, her trousers? He unlaced one boot and it fell with a clunk to the floor, he looked at Esther but she hadn’t moved. He unlaced the other and placed it carefully next to its pair. He then stood up, entirely uncomfortable and unsure.

 

“I’ll settle her.” came a quiet voice from the doorway and he saw the young novitiate standing there, staring at him with cautious eyes. He moved out of the way and she came in.

 

“Is it true she’s the Shard Witch?” she asked as she unbuttoned Esther’s jacket and peeled it off her arms.

 

“I don’t know.” he growled and left before any more clothes came off.

 

The journey was uneventful but rough. On the night of the second day, they had to pull the sails in as the wind had become even worse. It took all of them working together to get it under control and after Dai was satisfied they decamped to the galley and ate and drank their fill. Arya sat next to Sandor and neither of them seemed to mind it.

 

The morning of the third day dawned penetratingly cold but considerably brighter, with slices of blue shining out of the grey cloud. The sea was much calmer and the boat carved through the water like a hot knife through butter. Sandor had not ventured into Esther’s cabin again but had left it to the novitiate nun who appeared more than happy to look after one of the most famous Sisters the convent had ever had.

 

“I can see land!” called Arya from the crow’s nest and Dai climbed up to her.

 

“Aye, that’s Skane, we made good time. And we didn’t see none of them bastards from Skagos. Should be there by afternoon.”

 

Arya could see the huge grey cliffs spearing out of the sea, surrounded by flocks of birds looking like confetti circling the island. It didn’t look very hospitable.

 

Esther opened her eyes and yawned. She looked around the cabin and was very pleased to see it wasn’t lurching from left to right. She gingerly sat up and put her bare feet onto the wooded boards…it was all good so far…she stood up…still fine. She searched for her clothes but couldn’t find them anywhere, only her boots neatly paired at the bottom of her bed, she shoved her feet into them; now she was in her underthings. She knew she needed food and a drink more than anything else so she wrapped the quilted bedcover round her and shuffled off to the galley.

 

Andor was there, tending his pot, and looked up when she shambled in. Immediately he pulled a stool up to the range and indicated she should sit down. When he was satisfied she was comfortable, he handed her a chunk of bread and a bowl. He mimed dipping the bread in the bowl and smiled when she followed his instructions.

 

The warm posset was sweet and delicious, tasting of milk, heather honey, almonds and wine. She nodded her thanks to the boy who beamed at her. He scurried out and she wrapped the quilt around her and enjoyed the quiet.

 

Sandor was watching the island get nearer when he felt Dai join him; he had come to respect the older man, perhaps in another life they could have been friends.

 

“She’s awake and up Andor tells me.” Dai said quietly and watched as the big man went to her without comment.

 

Esther looked up as Sandor filled the galley with his presence; she was suddenly conscious there was only a quilt between her and him.

 

“Still puking?” he asked.

 

“Not so far.” she answered, “where are we?”

 

“Dai said we should be there soon.”

 

“Do you know where my clothes are?” she asked him, not meeting his eyes.

 

“That young nun was looking after you.” he said and saw the relief in her face but he wasn’t sure what she was relieved about.

 

Once she had located her clothes that seemed even more the worse for wear, Esther went out onto the deck.

 

“I can see Skane!” Arya called down to her and Esther was pleased to see the young girl had obviously enjoyed her time on the boat.

 

“The harbour’s round the other side of the island, just wait until you see that.” called Esther and sat on a pile of sailcloth and rolled a cigarette.

 

“Hey! We got nothing to light that with and you’re not to set a fire.” Dai chastised her. She raised her eyebrow at him and the cigarette glowed into life all by itself. She smiled at his shock.

 

What she didn’t see was the look of worry on Dai’s face.

 

“How long’s she been doing that?” he asked Sandor, out of earshot of Esther.

 

“As long as I’ve known her.” he replied and watched the old sailor begin twisting his hands together.

 

“Ain’t good, ain’t good at all.” he muttered.

 

“Why?” Sandor asked, aware that Dai knew much more about Esther than he did.

 

“I don’t pretend to know as much as the Sisters but I keep my ears open and the fact she’s doing that without any effort is a bad thing.” Dai looked over at Esther who was watching the birds form a noisy welcome party for them, “she was powerful when she was little, that were the reason she came to us in the first place, but Mother tried to teach her NOT to use it; knew it would lead to something see? The Sisters worked hard to keep Little Red’s magic under control. Sometimes it would seep out without any warning, a fire would start for no reason or the well would freeze but they could control it. When she were grown, Red didn’t use it outside of her sisterly duties. She was scared of it, she been taught to be scared of it. It changed her you see? Made her even more different. But now she’s using it like it were a tool. T’aint good.” he repeated.

 

“It saved the Stark girl’s life.” Sandor said and looked at the horror in Dai’s face.

 

“What?” he asked.

 

“The Stark girl was…killed…in a fight. She brought her back.” Sandor explained.

 

“Sweet Mother of the Sea!” Dai exclaimed.

 

“She’s not the only one to be able to do that, I knew a Red Priest who brought a man back six times.” Sandor wanted to get rid of the fear in the older man’s face.

 

“T’aint the same!” Dai snapped, “that power comes THROUGH the priest, her power comes from HER, it’s in her. She don’t know, she can’t remember what it was like…” and he stopped.

 

“What what was like?” Sandor asked but Dai shook his head.

 

“Not my story to tell big man, you’ll need to ask the Sisters but they ain’t going to tell you.”

 

Sandor growled but the man refused to talk anymore.

 

 

They rounded the rocky headland and Arya almost fell from her perch. A narrow inlet lead to a curved harbour, lush and green even in the freezing cold. The convent was golden in the sunlight, nestled in the rounded hillside. She could see an orchard by its side, small thatched buildings with smoking chimneys, white sheep dotted the enclosed fields and all about were women and men working side by side.

 

“Why’s it so green?” she asked and Esther smiled.

 

“This side of the island is heated by the earth, there is something down there that keeps the temperature kind even in the harshest winters. Thousands of years ago the Sisters believed there was a white dragon sleeping under the island that kept them warm.”

 

“And now? What do they believe now?” Arya leaned forward.

 

“Oh they reckon that old dragon’s still dreaming down there.” Dai said over her shoulder and winked at Esther who grinned.

 

They moored just inside the cliffs and lowered the boat to row to shore. Sandor squinted into the sunlight and saw three women waiting on the wall.

 

As soon as Esther got into the little boat she looked green again. Dai dipped the oars in and rowed as quickly as possible but they hadn’t got 10 yards from the boat when she was throwing up and swearing again. The young nun held her hair and Andor looked like he was about to cry.

 

They pulled up to the harbour wall and Andor jumped out with the mooring rope. The others got out but Esther crawled to the side and rolled onto the gritty and grey harbour walk, lying there like a leaking frog, hugging the ground.

 

“Esther Stark get up off the ground this instant, is that anyway to behave?” said an authoritative but warm voice. Arya and Sandor turned to see a tall, straight-backed and sturdy woman with dark hair turning to grey tucked under a simple hood, a piercing expression and a smile tugging at her lips. Her eyes were so blue they looked like sapphires. She saw Dai and beamed, revealing white teeth.

 

“ ’ello love.” he said and they embraced.

 

Esther groaned and struggled to get up on all fours but couldn’t manage to get upright. Moranna, Mother Superior of the Moontide Sisters and leader of 40 Sisters in the convent and over 100 in the outside world, 20 novitiates, 30 lay people and their families, wife to her man Dai Moss and her woman Wenna Dismass, 58 years old, a skilled healer, Secret Keeper and Ice Witness prodded the Shard Witch with the toe of her boot.

 

“Get up…now” she said but Esther couldn’t get to her feet. Moranna crossed her arms and stared hard. The other 2 women, Sister Elena and Sister Maud, hid their smiles behind gloved hands, they’d seen this all before 25 years ago.

 

“Did she take Andor’s brew?” she asked to the assembled crowd, Andor nodded.

 

“It only lasted two days.” Dai said, “then she got in the little boat and started again.”

 

“Leave me here.” Esther moaned but was ignored by everyone.

 

“And who are you?” Moranna finally seemed to notice the six and a half foot soldier grimacing with his half burnt face and treated him to a piercing glare. Sandor remained unmoved.

 

“He’s The Hound.” Arya said.

 

“And you are Arya Stark, I am sorry for your losses.” Moranna said and tenderly stroked Arya’s cheek.

 

“Well big man, do you reckon you can carry Little Red up to the convent, she ain’t going to be able to walk it?” Dai said and Sandor sighed, scooped up the feebly protesting Esther and followed the group up to the huge wooden doors of the convent. Moranna pushed them open and they walked into a large courtyard with a cloistered walk leading through to a large arch. Trees and plants lined the golden paved walkway; carved wooden screens were placed in the stone mullioned windows. There were lots of people of varying ages scurrying about in a purposeful manner; most of the women were dressed like Esther but were considerably cleaner, some were dressed in everyday work clothes, all stopped and bowed to the Mother Superior and then greeted Dai and Andor like friends.

 

Esther had hooked her arm round Sandor’s neck and tried not to throw up again. She was in no fit state to notice her surrounding but it felt like home. Arya was staring about her in awe, trying to remember everything she was seeing. Moranna went through the archway and opened the carved wooden doors. To the right was another archway leading to the orchard were people were tending the trees, reading or just enjoying the last of the sun. Inside the large room, a huge fireplace roared with heat and a long table was placed in the centre.

 

“Put her on there.” she ordered and Sandor unceremoniously dumped Esther at one end and stood back.

 

Moranna and the two other sisters stood over her and closed their eyes. Many moments passed, Sandor felt a shift in the atmosphere and Moranna cupped one hand over the other and walked to the fire, it flamed a dull brown and colour immediately returned to Esther who sat up and stretched her shoulders.

 

“Better?” asked Moranna and Esther nodded gratefully. She got down from the table and put her arms round the Mother Superior who returned the embrace with equal intensity. Suddenly Moranna pushed Esther away and wrinkled her nose.

 

“You stink.” she said flatly and directed her gaze over Sandor and Arya.

 

“You all stink. You need to bathe.”

 

“There’s no time.” said Esther impatiently, “Something is coming and I can’t pull the threads together we need to…”

 

“I know.” interrupted Moranna, “We’ve known since we got Rellet’s raven and we’ve been working on it but it can wait until you don’t smell like the dead.” Esther opened her mouth to argue but the Mother Superior held her hand up, “You will bathe and eat and rest before anything else. You will put everyone off their dinner if you stay as you are.” Esther closed her mouth and sighed.

 

“Dai will show you to the bath house.” she said with a sweeping gaze over Sandor, “And you still know the way I presume?” she asked Esther who nodded.

 

“Come on big man.” Dai said to Sandor, “I reckon I’ve got some Firemead stashed somewhere.” he added under his breath and they left, Esther and Arya went in the opposite direction.

 

 

Dai saw his wife sitting with her back to the fire, looking pensive; Wenna was asleep in the chair, he was glad to be home.

 

“So who is the soldier?” Moranna asked quietly.

 

“He fought for King Robert and then guarded that little bastard Joffrey, a terror by all accounts. He’s suffering and he ain’t sure what to do.”

 

“Why is he with Esther and the little one?”

 

“Because I don’t reckon there’s a force on this earth that would make him abandon them. He’s a tough bugger and I wouldn’t like to cross him but he’ll be with her until his dying day.”

 

“Good.” said Moranna, “She’s going to need that.”

 

“She’s bringing back the dead again.” Dai said quietly and Moranna sighed and took his hand.

 

“We knew this day would come.” she said, “I just hope it’s better this time.” and Dai nodded, hope was all they had.

 

Arya felt very self-conscious wrapped only in the drying sheet; one of the Sisters had come to take her clothes away but had left her Needle. She stepped onto the warm, terracotta tiles and looked down at her filthy feet, wiggling her toes. She looked nervously at the large sunken, orange tiled bath filled with steaming water; this was nothing like the communal baths she had seen as Harrenhall. It was lit with lamps, candles and the last of the natural light through big skylights set into the domed ceiling. Bars of Dornish soap made from olive oil were set in dishes round the baths. It smelt like clean washing and rosemary – this did not set Arya’s mind at rest.

 

“Come on.” encouraged Esther who was just as dirty as Arya, and she dropped the sheet and stepped into the warm water.

 

“You’re not scared are you?” Esther asked, keenly aware that this would be the only way to get the girl into the water. She watched with a satisfied stare as Arya set her mouth in a defiant line and got into the bath.

 

Esther sunk lower into the warm water and felt it wash over her, she closed her eyes and, for the first time in months, lowered her shoulders and breathed out. Arya tentatively dipped down and also felt the benefit. They sat in silence and gently steamed.

 

After taking off his boots, Sandor dumped his armour on the wooden bench and pulled his shirt over his head, untied his trousers and left them on the wet floor. He walked down the steps into the square pool of hot water. He sat on the ledge placed under the water and spread his arms behind him. He was still unsure about the whole situation with the bloody Sisters, the convent, being on fucking Skane and the two Starks but right at that moment he was glad he was there.

 

Arya sniffed the soap suspiciously.

 

“It’s made with rosemary.” said Esther with her eyes still closed, “use it or the Mother Superior really won’t let you have any dinner…and wash your hair, we’ve probably all got things living with us we’d rather not.” Arya began scrubbing her hair with the soap and then disappeared under the water. Esther reached behind her and got another bar and did the same. When she was satisfied they were both clean and vermin free she sat back and closed her eyes again. The she opened one of them again as she heard Arya splashing about.

 

“If you’re finished, you can get out and find your room.” she said.

 

“I haven’t got any clothes.” Arya said nervously.

 

“Behind the screen are some long bath shirts, dry yourself with the sheet and then put one of those on, they’ll probably come to your ankles, you’ll be covered. One of the Sisters will be outside, just ask her where your room is.”

 

“Aren’t you coming?” Arya asked and Esther shook her head, “I’ve spent every living moment with you for the past few months, I’ve seen enough of you, I’m going to stay here for a bit.” and Arya nodded, she understood.

 

Sandor took another gulp of the Firemead and sighed in satisfaction.

 

“I’ve brought you something to drink.” said a voice behind Esther’s head and she looked up to see Wenna holding a full cup, she took it gratefully.

 

“It’s good to see you again.” the woman said and they slipped back into their comfortable companionship that had just started to blossom when Esther had left the convent all those years ago.

 

“And you.”

 

Wenna sat on the edge of the bath and put her feet into the water.

 

“You’ve not changed.” she said enviously.

 

“Neither have you.” replied Esther and meant it, Wenna was still the same with thick, brown hair, blue eyes set in a wide face and pale skin, “are you happy?” and she nodded.

 

“What about you?” asked Wenna, waving her feet in the water, “Do you have anyone?”

 

“There’ve been a few but no-one that was more than a port in a storm.”

 

“What about your man you arrived with, I’ll bet he’s a great one.” said Wenna with her usual bluntness. Esther took a drink of the Firemead.

 

“Wouldn’t know.” she said and saw the surpise in the other woman’s face.

 

“What?” she asked, “you’ve not…”

 

“No, I’ve not.” Esther interrupted quickly.

 

“Why?” Wenna’s voice got louder with shock.

 

“Because…” Esther began, “because it’s too complicated.”

 

“Bollocks to that!” Wenna exclaimed, “I’d be on him quicker than a Dornish man out the window after hearing a husband come home.”

 

“You’re welcome to him.” Esther said and was surprised to learn she didn’t mean it.

 

“Aahh go on.” Wenna scoffed and kicked water at Esther, “I wouldn’t get a look in. I saw him looking at you…there’s a man with a stone in his pocket.”

 

“Shut up and roll me a cigarette.’ Esther said and dipped under the water again. Wenna passed her the lit cigarette and watched as she blew out the smoke and drank some more.

 

“So you wouldn’t at all then?” she asked, prodding Esther to see how far she could push her.

 

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t…I just said I hadn’t.”

 

“A fine big man like that? You’re wasting.” Wenna said and took a drag of the cigarette, “I bet he’s got a chest on him and hairy…I like a hairy man, lets you know you’re with a proper one.”

 

“You’re married to Moranna.” Esther laughed and drank more.

 

“Aye well that’s my woman, if I’d chosen a man, he’d ’ve been like your one through there.” and she nodded towards the next bathing room.

 

“I can’t say I’ve not thought about it.” she admitted, “When there was a cold wind from the North…” and they both laughed again.

 

Sandor was drifting in a warm haze of alcohol when women’s voices broke his peace.; he tried to block it out but the tiled rooms accentuated the sound. His face remained stony as he listened to the conversation between Esther and another woman; he didn’t move and the water waves were the only sign he was breathing.

 

Esther got out of the bath a little unsteadily and Wenna handed her the sheet.

 

“Temperature’s dropping.”

 

“Winter is coming.” replied Esther and felt her throat constrict as he remembered her father saying that many times; she must have drunk more than she thought. Wenna left her to get dried and Esther pulled a bath shirt over her head, it reached just above her knees but it would have to do.

 

She wandered out but there was no sign of the Sister and darkness had fallen. She headed towards where she thought their bedrooms might be, weaving a little as she went. She tried one door and it was locked so she tried the next and virtually fell into the room.

 

“Oh shit, sorry.” she mumbled and then froze when she saw Sandor standing at the bottom of the bed in a shirt and trousers, it was the first time she had seen him without the heavy, black armour. Without the covering of metal and leather she could see how powerful he truly was; his shoulders were broad and massive, his arms were strong and his chest was all that Wenna had thought. She could see the dark hair creeping up his throat and joining his beard.

 

“What do you want girl?” he rasped.

He’d turned as the door had opened, ready to tell whoever it was to fuck off and then he’d seen Esther outlined against the torches in the corridor, wearing nothing but a thin bath shirt, the silhouette of her body clearly visible through the thin material, hair still wet. He was transported back to the courtyard in King’s Landing with the twilight giving a dreamy quality, watching her laughing with the kitchen women. So much had happened and they had travelled so far since then but he was still no closer to her; he was the monster, The Hound, the burned man, fear mongerer, murderer, a blind follower.

 

“There’s a question,” she said quietly, not moving from the door but not leaving either, “I’m not sure what I want.”

 

In one movement he had crossed the room and was standing, huge, in front of her. She stepped forward and matched him.

 

“Careful girl.” he growled fighting to keep his hands down by his side.

 

“It’s Mistress.” she said and reached up to him. She pressed her lips to his but he refused to move.

 

“All you’ve got to do is surrender.” she said against his mouth and he did.

 

His hands locked around the back of her head and he finally, finally returned her kiss as brutally as she gave it. He could feel the heat surging from her body, his own body responded in kind.

 

Esther was standing on tiptoes but still could not get all of him that she wanted, he seemed to know this and lifted her up. He slammed the door closed and leant her against it, still supporting her weight in his arms. One arm was round his shoulders, her hand was holding the burnt side of his face forcing him to stay where he was; it still wasn’t enough, the other hand was gripping his shoulder.

 

“I won’t be able to stop.” he warned her, breaking the kiss, setting her down and breathing heavily. Esther gave a slow smile and leant her head back to look him in the eye.

 

“I don’t want you to.” she breathed and he gave in for a second time. Her hands gripped his shirt and pulled it over his head, she placed her hands flat on his chest and pushed him backwards until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. She knelt over him and kissed him again. He could feel her wetness.

 

Esther trailed her mouth down to the dip of his collarbone, tasting salt and warmth. His skin was rough and hot. Her hand curled over his shoulder and she could feel the muscled power underneath. His breath was quick and scalded her. She rolled her hips and was rewarded with a growl that heightened her even more. She moved again and knew he couldn’t hold back much longer.

 

He desperately tried to control himself, knowing he could hurt her no matter how powerful she was but, fuck, she was not making it easy. Every time she moved she left white heat trails over his body. She rolled her hips and he gritted his teeth, she did it again and he couldn’t stop himself. He gripped her waist and flung her onto the bed.

 

Esther threw her shirt onto the floor and watched his hunger grow. He leant over her, bracing himself with arms either side. Looking up at him she saw a moment of doubt, her fingers dug into his shoulders and she brought him down to her so he covered her.

 

With one movement he was inside her, large and so hard. She gasped with pleasure and matched his rhythm. All the chained desire and need was released in both of them. She looked him in the eye and smiled then brought his mouth to hers but the kiss didn’t last long. She tightened around him and was rewarded with another growl.

 

“Fuck girl, do you want this to end?” he gasped.

 

The heat and need began to build in both of them, neither held back now. He began to move faster and Esther’s gasps became moans and then uncontrollable cries. He could do nothing but repeat her name again and again. They broke together and the room shook with their desire.

 

When it was over and they could breathe again, he looked at her face flushed with yearning for more and spent passion; never in his life, he thought, had he seen anything like Esther Stark.

 

Outside the room containing the whole world for that moment, lamps and candle roared with a blue flame, the fire in the hall thundered up the huge chimney, the wells and the harbour flash froze with thick ice and the orchard bloomed, fruited and withered in an instant.

 

_Far beyond The Wall, the Night King raised his head and tasted the air, The Shard Witch had woken._


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After watching series 6 again whilst mooching about at home, I was inspired to write the next chapter. More sexy fun times but things are about to change. Thank you for reading this and sticking with it, please let me know what you think if you can.

“I’m hungry.” Esther stated as she pulled up the covers to keep out the sudden chill.

 

“You’ve puked up everything for the past four days.” Sandor said, trying not to fall asleep, he thought she might not like that.

 

“That is a very good point.” and she stretched her arms above her head, he saw her shoulder blades move under the warm marble of her skin and marvelled that she was in his bed, “but I also can’t be arsed to move.” She then remembered that her things were still in the bathhouse including her rolling papers and tobacco. She shivered as her feet touched the flagstones and hurriedly shuffled into the bath shirt. Sandor’s heart sank, he should have known it was too good to be fucking true, she’d just used him like she’d used that tavern woman back in Lovell-under-Wychwood. Well he wasn’t some fucking port in a storm, she could just fuck off.

 

“I’m going to get my things from the bathhouse, get some food and drink and then I’m coming back here, I definitely want more of what just happened.” she said hopping over the freezing floor and out the door before he could reply. So she was coming back…but she just expected him to be waiting there for her? Well Sandor Clegane was his own man, had he not told the king to go fuck himself? Had he not fought in more battles than she’d had hot dinners? He would decide if she could come back, he’d get up and lock that bastard door and she could knock the door to come back to him. He picked up the pillow she’d lay back on and caught the sent of rosemary and something indefinable…he didn’t move.

 

The Sister had returned to her duty outside the bathroom and stood up when Esther approached.

 

“Mistress.” she said and bowed, “Mother wants to see you.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Something…something happened a short while ago; the harbour and wells are frozen solid, the fire behaved strangely…she wants to see you.” the Sister repeated. Esther quickly gathered her things and went back to the bedroom with a hollow pit in her stomach.

 

Sandor was dozing when the door opened but sat up when he saw Esther. She knelt beside him on the bed and began rolling a cigarette, he waited for her to take the first drag and settle herself.

 

“Something happened and now Mother wants to see me.” she said but he remained quiet so she continued, “I…I think I may have caused the water to freeze and the fires to behave differently when we ummm…”

 

“Fucked.” he finished for her.

 

“Yes, fucked.” she met his steely gaze and pulled heavily on the cigarette.

 

“That ever happened before?” he asked.

 

“No. What ever is happening is making this power grow, I thought perhaps bringing Arya back from the dead was a freak chance, I’ve never been able to do that before…”she sighed, breathing out more of the sweet smelling smoke.

 

“You could do it when you were a girl though.” Sandor said and was surprised when she shook her head.

 

“That was the reason you were sent away from Winterfell.” and she gave him a confused look.

 

“No I was sent away because I healed a servant who had got lost in a snowstorm and was found half frozen. I didn’t know I could do it, I just put my hands on him when they brought him to my brother and healed him…he wasn’t dead. Maester Luwin told Ned that I should be sent here so the people didn’t fear me.”

 

“You’re brother sent you away on the word of a Maester?” Sandor asked, hating Ned Stark all over again.

 

“I’m not sure he had a choice, magic has been gone from our world for a long time and people are scared of it. It took me a very long time to realise that perhaps Ned made the only decision he could. Maester Luwin made a study of the Higher Mysteries, he knew what he was talking about.”

 

“Fucking coward.” Sandor snarled and Esther felt gratified that someone else might now be on her side.

 

“What made you think that was the reason I left Winterfell?” she asked.

 

“Something that old sailor said about fire and ice when you were young.”

 

“What else did he say?

 

“Nothing, wouldn’t tell me anymore, said it wasn’t his story to tell.” Sandor sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his clothes.

 

“Why is it you seem to know more about me than I do?” Esther’s face creased with anger, “well fuck this, I need to have a conversation with Moranna.” She moved to the door and yanked it open. She came to face to face with Wenna who peered behind her and grinned appreciatively as Sandor who was still shirtless.

 

“What do you want?” Esther asked moving into her eye line.

 

“Moranna wants to see you now.” she said.

 

“Good because I sure as hells want to see her.” Esther said with her mouth set in a grim line and pushed passed her. Sandor went to follow her but Wenna blocked his way.

 

“Sorry soldier, this is Sister business, no men allowed.” Sandor growled but Wenna refused to move.

 

When the people saw Esther striding down the corridor, they moved out of her way; the torches that line the cloister flamed in her wake but she didn’t see it, she was focused on getting the truth out of the Mother Superior. She flung open the doors and Moranna turned.

 

“Out!” ordered Esther to the other Sisters and workers sitting around the table and when they didn’t move quickly enough the shadows darkened and they felt ice creep under their skin.

 

“You wanted to see me Mother Superior.” Esther hissed.

 

“How much do you know?” Moranna asked. It was rare that she felt uncomfortable but she eyed the darkened shadows warily.

 

‘No. You will tell me all that you know and if I’m satisfied with your answers…the convent may still be here at dawn.”

 

“And if you’re not satisfied?”

 

“Well that will make for an interesting tomorrow.”

 

Moranna’s shoulders sagged and she sat down in front of the fire.

 

“Have you got your tobacco and rolling papers?” she asked and Esther shook her head, cautious at this abrupt change in tone. Moranna sighed and took out a bag similar to Esther’s and expertly rolled a smoke and handed the bag to Esther who did the same.

 

Moranna inhaled deeply and began a story that she had hoped she would never have to tell.

 

“The man you saved at Winterfell was dead, he’d been dead for days; Luwin sent me a raven after you’d resurrected him, he knew what it meant. You know that your family are descended from the First? Well…The Children of The Forest created a terrible weapon to fight them, to stop the First Men from slaughtering them and taking their land…it’s where the White Walkers were crafted.” Moranna took another deep drag, looked away from Esther’s huge and darkly angry eyes and continued, “The First Woman were against their men killing and taking the land and could see the terrible power the Children had unleashed so they made a bargain with them. The women would not use their power against the White Walkers if the Children created a fail safe…an antidote if you like, against the White Walkers. The women predicted what would happen see?

 

So the women and the Children took a newborn girl and used the same magic as that which had created the Night King but with the combined power of fire and ice. That’s how the Shard Witch was forged…”

 

“But this was thousands of years ago, how could this have anything to do with me?” Esther interrupted but fell silent when Moranna gave her a look.

 

“There’s talk of dragons in the South. A Targaryen survived Robert’s Rebellion and rumours have it that she has three dragons; I got news from the leader of the Free Folk, a man by the name of Mance Rayder, who is bringing as many of the Wildings to The Wall as he can because there is a huge army of White Walkers the like of which hasn’t been seen since the Battle for the Dawn coming for us all. The war that raged 8 thousand years ago isn’t done yet and Winter is coming.”

 

Esther stared into the fire and finally began to make sense of all she had seen in her visions.

 

“How does The Shard Witch fit into any of this? The Shard Witch was a legend…a story that was rarely told and now you’re saying that I have a part to play in the coming war between the living and the dead? If I am the Shard Witch then I’ve got the same magic as the White Walkers.” she asked but Moranna shook her head.

 

“No, the magic used was a combination of fire and ice, the White Walkers are from the ice, the dragons are from the fire. The Shard Witch will balance all the elements in the battle to come. Defeat will always come if there is no balance.” Moranna broke off the take a deep drink of Firemead.

 

“I brought Arya back from the dead but she wasn’t a…a wight, she came back the same as she left.”

 

“That’d be the magic of the First Women; human you see?”

 

“So my fate was mapped out thousands of years ago?” and Moranna nodded, “Why didn’t you tell me any of this before I left?”

 

“Because, Little Red, if you knew what power you had you’d have lost your humanity. You needed to go out into the world, free of this knowledge, and learn about the people and the land, to care about them, to heal them. There was a possibility that the Children had lied and the Shard Witch was another of their weapons; when we knew who you were we had to make sure you were on our side.” Moranna watched as Esther took in this knowledge and felt a tide of relief when she nodded. Esther understood why they had done this to her, she’d felt the pull of the violence and the desire to purge the world all her life, perhaps she would’ve become another Night King if she hadn’t lived and worked and seen for so long.

 

“You won’t have to do this on your own, there are other forces at work in the world. The comet proclaimed the coming of The Unburnt queen, The Red Priest you met can bring back the dead and the North will unite under its King. You’re not alone. Your nephew Bran is making his way to the Three Eyed Raven, old and unhelpful bastard that he is…you’ll have help.”

 

“So what do I do now?” she asked and Moranna’s heart broke for the woman all over again but she could not allow sentiment to get in the way of the work ahead.

 

“Now we see what you can do.” she said.

 

“I think I might be able affect fire and ice.” Esther said drily and Moranna smiled, she hadn’t changed.

 

“Apparently so. Dai is raging about the boat being ice bound in the harbour. What happened to cause that?”

 

“Ummmmm…I may have done that whilst…enjoying myself.” she admitted.

 

“That huge bastard you arrived with?” Moranna asked with raised eyebrows but Esther refused to be drawn.

 

As she rolled another smoke, Esther thought about the work to be done. She couldn’t afford any distractions and there were two distractions only a few doors away. Something would have to be done but perhaps it could wait until tomorrow.

 

She left Moranna and headed towards Arya’s room, she poked her head round the door but the girl was asleep, wrapped in the warm furs.

 

She felt different, she was no longer at war with herself, there was a drumming in her head that was louder than all the bells in the convent and it matched her heartbeat. Before she had only felt lightly tethered to the earth, now she was anchored to everything; it was as if she could see the veins and arteries of the world. Walking past the stone window that looked out onto the now frozen harbour, she was almost knocked down by the brightness of the air, the facets in the night sky and the taste of the sea. She held onto the stone sill and closed her eyes at the overwhelming feeling of being alive. She could feel every muscle and bone in her body; she could sense the texture of her blood. Opening her eyes again, she knew what she wanted more than anything else. The Night King and an eight thousand year old war could wait. She let go of the stone and walked towards the bedroom.

 

He jerked his head up as she came in and stood up.

 

“What the fuck happened to you?” he growled.

 

“I don’t want to talk about that now.” she murmured and he caught a look he hadn’t seen before. She closed the door behind her and licked her lips.

 

Sandor was a veteran of many battlefields and had looked into the eyes men who killed for pleasure, men who hated killing, the lunatics and the terrified. He thought he’d faced every type of blood lust humanity could dream up in its twisted soul. He’d been the hunter and the hunted, the judge and the executioner, the guard and the criminal and nothing had scared him…only the fire. He looked into Esther’s eyes that were almost black in the lamplight and felt, for the first time in his life, drawn to a flame. She burned.

 

Esther felt like skin surrounding thunder. She was hungry but no food in the world could satisfy her. If it were any other man she might back away to protect them from her. However, this man was not any other man. He had stayed with her even after she had tried to push him away; he protected her blood when no one else would. He had never tried to control or weaken her and he had accepted her without question. The ribbons of pain and betrayal ran deep in him and she doubted she could unpick them but in this moment and in this room, they didn’t matter. Her blood was singing.

 

“Why aren’t you scared of me?” she asked quietly, not moving, “Why have you never been scared of me? You knew what I could do from the very first and yet you didn’t run.”

 

“I’ve never run, girl.” Sandor growled.

 

“Not even when the Blackwater burned?” she asked, watching him.

 

“I didn’t run, I’d had enough of fighting for cunts.” he replied, “and I’m not scared of you…nothing to be scared of.”

 

She crossed the room and stared up at him. He looked down into her upturned face and saw the change in her. Her hand was warm on his chest and Esther could feel his strong heart beating.

 

This time there was no hesitation, no tentativeness, they knew each other’s bodies better than before. He knew she wanted him not just somebody - a man who had never loved, never been loved knew the most powerful witch in the Seven Kingdoms had chosen him.

 

She was still wearing the bath shirt, he gripped the edge and tore it off, and she gave him a predatory smile. She ripped his shirt in two and he tossed it aside. Both were breathing heavily. His eyes glittered in the guttering candles, dark and dangerous. Esther walked backwards and lay on the bed still unmade from their last encounter. He stood over her and she nodded.

 

He leant over her and she went to move but he held both her wrists with his huge hand. With the other hand he traced the shape of her body, her hips and ribcage, her collarbone, her jawline and down her torso. He dipped his head to the curve of her neck and tasted her flesh. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him close. He let go of her wrists and gripped her thigh. He discarded the last of his clothes and she felt the delicious roughness of his chest. He explored her with his fingers and felt her respond, he returned with his own predatory grin. She reached up and traced his scars and he didn’t stop her.

 

He ran his hands through her fire bright hair and across her shoulders; she still had her legs wrapped around him and tightened her grip. He could feel the heat rolling off her, making his skin glisten. Her hands slid down his back and she pulled him towards her but he wanted this to last longer. He bent his head and ran his mouth down her sternum, over her torso to the centre of her heat. The strongest wine, the saltiest whiskey had never tasted so good to him. She opened her legs wider and lay back with her hands above her head, never knowing a state of ecstasy such as this. His mouth, tongue, and teeth drove her to the edge and she tried to restrain her cries of passion as he made her come harder than she ever had before. Before she had time to come down off her high, he fell into her, unable to hold himself back. His movements were powerful and rhythmic and all she could do was hold onto his shoulders, digging her fingers in as he took her to the edge again. This time he didn’t curb his desire or passion, he left nothing behind. His eyes closed and felt her burn him from the inside out.

 

“Open your eyes” she gasped and he did. She stared up at him and this time he didn’t see his hideous and burned reflection, he saw her desire for him and the desperation for him not to stop. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer and felt her tighten around him. Their cries of passion mixed with the crashing waves along the cliffs, as powerful as each other.

 

There was no magic this time, no fire or ice; this was entirely human and more powerful because of that.

 

Esther relished the weight of his body and keenly felt its loss when he finally managed to move.

 

“You’ll be the death of me, girl.” he rasped.

 

“The sweetest death.” she countered and heard him laugh for the first time.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Such bad withdrawal symptoms already and it's only been a week. As always thanks for reading and please let me know what you think if you can.

“Where were you last night?” asked Arya, staring at Esther with an accusatory glare and porridge on her chin.

“Busy.” she replied shortly and sat down next to the girl, wiping her chin with the cloth. Wenna sat opposite her at the table she remembered so fondly and grinned; all around her the Sisters, their families, the lay people, were eating breakfast and planning their day…she could almost feel safe…almost.

“What are you doing today?” Esther asked.

“Dai said he would show me how to mend nets; he was going to teach me how to sail but the harbour froze in the night.” Arya replied, Wenna grinned again but Esther bent her head over her food.

When breakfast was finished, the room began to clear of people ready to go about their day. Most of them nodded respectfully to her, some smiled but none of them spoke to her. Moranna put her hand on Esther’s shoulder.

“Clean the tables, wash the plates and cups, restock the log baskets and then come down to The Dark Room.”

“What? No! We have to start planning the…” Esther began but Moranna held up her hand.

“You are part of this convent, you will do your share of the work just like everyone else. See to your duties Sister.” and she left. Esther sighed and began to stack the bowls. 

It took her until the sun had travelled over the cliffs and was finally warming the harbour but the ice was taking a long time to dissipate. Esther threw the last of the logs into the basket next to the kitchen fire and wiped her hands on her trousers. She pushed her hair out of her eyes and got to her feet. Taking a deep breath, she headed away from the common areas of the convent, through the Great Hall, passing the apothecary rooms and library and out onto the wind-blown fields. She trekked over the grass, occasionally unhooking her cloak from the clumps of gorse until she came to the entrance that lead down into the cave system below. She shouldered the rough door aside and entered the murky tunnel.

It was the most sacred place in the convent and only the Mother and the most senior Sisters ever went inside. Picking her way carefully down the worn stone steps cut into the rock, she traced her fingers over the pitted wall and continued into the darkness. It was warm and dry, lit every so often with torches that threw eldritch shadows over the grey rock veined with quartz that glittered. Down she went in a spiral, watching where she put her feet. At one point she discarded her cloak, it was getting warmer. She had no concept of how much time had gone by, she just kept going down, she threw off her jacket and overshirt. Finally, wearing a vest and trousers, her feet aching in the boots, she came to the bottom of the stairs. She had to lean against the wall to regain her balance and stared into the dark tunnel beyond. She wasn’t scared, she felt safe but she knew that to come into this place meant the Sisters needed to be secretive. 

The tunnel was dry and her boots crunched over the sandy floor. At some point, a very long time ago, one of the Sisters had thought to carve a nook into the wall, a jug and mug of water was placed there and Esther gratefully took a drink, she was sweating. Behind the jug, scratched into the wall of the nook, were the words ‘Light is fleeting, Darkness is the only constant.’ She put the mug back and carried on until she came to the door to The Dark Room.

“Come in.” Moranna called and Esther opened the door.

It couldn’t be called a cave…that was too small a word. It also couldn’t be called a cavern although it was cavernous. It was more like a cathedral hollowed out of the rock. There were no torches needed to light this place, the streaks of quartz lit it like the brightest lamp and the heat was almost unbearable. Moranna, Maud and Elena were standing round the fire in the centre. Tables were laid out around the room and the huge altar, carved out of dragonglass, shone slickly in the quartzlight.

“Fuck me.” whispered Esther.

“Welcome Sister.” Moranna said and beckoned her over.

“What will happen here that couldn’t happen in the Great Hall?” Esther asked.

“Your power has broken the chains we put around it many years ago. This is the only place we can test it safely.” Elena said softly.

“We are so deep beneath the surface even your power can’t get through, and even if it could, the quartz running through this rock will soak up enough that it can’t hurt anyone.” Maud said, wiping the sweat from her neck.

“Let’s begin.” Moranna said and lead Esther to the altar, “place your hands here and kneel.” Esther did as she was told.

“Now, I want you to go into yourself like you do when you are healing.” Moranna stood behind her. Esther looked into her broken reflection in the dragonglass and breathed deeply.

She was falling in the darkness, her hair streaming out behind. With no beginning and no end, time lost meaning and then, as quickly as the fall had begun, it ended and she was lying on the snow outside of a huge weirwood tree. She walked through the entrance to where the roots of the tree tangled around an old man.

“So you have come to me at last Esther of House Stark? It is good to finally meet you.”

“You’re the three-eyed-raven. You’re the green-seer. But what can you tell me that I don’t already know old man?” Esther demanded and he laughed, sounding like old parchment blowing in the wind.

“Do you know it has been so long since I laughed I thought I had forgotten how to do it? I can’t tell you anything but I can show you.”

Esther found herself standing in front of the tree again but it was much smaller, the branches not yet spread out. Women dressed in black with red belts round their waists stood around in a semi-circle. One, older than the others, cradled a crying bundle; she turned to the pile of firewood and pointed at it. The pyre burst into flames; another woman tipped a horn of red liquid that froze before it hit the ground; another emptied a leather pouch of black earth into her hand and clenched her fist, when she opened it the earth had formed a sparkling diamond and the last of the group dropped a crow’s feather that hovered above the ground, never completing its fall.  
Laying the baby on the ground, the old woman unwrapped the coverings revealing a tiny new-born girl, red and squalling. She stroked the baby’s cheek and took a shard of dragonglass out of her cloak. The other women gathered round and joined their hands. The baby had stopped crying and was watching them with dark eyes. She placed the dragonglass over the baby’s heart and pushed it into the tiny chest. The baby didn’t scream or cry, it gurgled and smiled gummily up at the women. For a moment its eyes flamed blue but then returned to their dark brown. Quickly, the other women placed their hands on the baby in turn, each time the baby’s eyes changed from brown to black to red to blue then back to brown. The baby gurgled again as each of the women fell to the ground, eyes open and dead. The older woman carefully wrapped up the baby and carried her away, stepping over the bodies and not looking back.

Esther turned to the three-eyed-raven, “They sacrificed themselves?”

“They were the First Women, they knew what it meant and they knew what the cost would be. Their magic didn’t come from any gods, it came from the very thing the world is made of.”

“Am I…Am I the baby?” Esther asked.

“Yes and no.” he replied.

“Can you be any clearer than that?’

“You are the baby in the sense that the power they instilled into her is in you and you are her direct descendent but…you are also Esther Stark, your father was Rickard Stark, you had two brothers and one sister, you hate riding, you are a terrible sailor, you like to hear grass blow in a breeze and you love the smell of a bonfire.”

“What am I meant to do?” 

“You are the balance, you will be the weighing scale when the Battle for the Dawn is fought otherwise the Long Night will never end. You must learn to control your powers, you must practice and the Darkness will help you. I think you must go back now.” and the three-eyed-raven put his hand on her shoulder.

Esther gasped and drew in a huge breath, she was shivering and her hands were crusted with frost. She turned to see the three Sisters huddled round the fire, shivering.

“What did you see?” Elena asked through blue lips.

“Everything.” Esther answered and stood up. She moved towards the fire and the flames roared blue, the Sisters screamed and Esther closed her eyes. She saw the frozen harbour, Dai and Arya were sitting on the wall mending nets and she smiled when their mouths opened as the ice steamed, cracked and melted. She opened her eyes to the darkness; the fire in the cave had gone down to embers and the streaks of quartz were too bright to look at.

“Moranna?” Esther said and fell to the floor where the frost that had formed melted in the returning heat.

Moranna turned to Elena and Maud, “Go and get the soldier.”

“But Mother, no man had ever set foot in the Dark Room…” said Maud

“Unless you want to carry her all the way up those stairs, go and get the fucking soldier.” Moranna snapped.

Sandor had stripped off his armour half way down and now he struggled to remove the leather vest. He followed the two Sisters into a cave larger than the throne room in the Red Keep. Moranna was sitting on the floor with Esther’s head in her lap.

“What the fuck happened?” he growled.

“We need to get her back to the convent.” Moranna said and watched as he picked Esther up and began the long climb back to the surface.

He laid her on the bed and turned to face the three Sisters who had followed him in.

“Get out.” he rasped.

“But…” started Maud.

“Get out.” he repeated and the Sisters left without another word.

He sat down and started his watch through the night.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's taken me a very long time to come back to this as I couldn't figure out where I was going with it but season 7 has been so STELLAR that I've been inspired once again. Be warned  - this chapter is filling in the gaps until season 7 is finished ( not long to go now) - there are spoilers from season 5 onwards. As always, thank you for reading this.

The candle burned low and darkness settled like a blanket. 

Esther dreamed.

She was walking through the orchard again; it was thick with snow, muffled against the rest of the world. She didn’t feel any fear, in fact she felt like she was where she belonged. A single fruit has somehow survived the cold; it hung on the branch like a jewel; plucking it from the branch, the apple shattered like glass, her touch had frozen it. 

She walked on.

Pushing open the doors to the Great Hall, she was greeted by a blue light emanating from the ice and snow reflecting the cold starlight from the glassless windows, the dead hearth was silent. 

There was no death, there was no life, there was simply the endless Winter. She brushed the snow from the bench and sat down, tracing meaningless patterns in the ice crystals. A sudden gale tore through the hall, whipping the snow into a blinding blizzard. Through the swirling frozen fog emerged the Night King, his crown of ice catching the light and blue eyes burning. 

Again, she felt no fear.

He reached out and brought her to him in an icy embrace. She felt the eternity calling her, willing her to capitulate in the Long Night. The wind susurrated about surrender and she was so tempted. Her thumbs tingled with the power…long dormant. The frostlight began to vibrate, becoming almost too bright to look at it, chasing away the remaining shadows. The Night King tilted her chin up and looked into dark eyes, smiling as they turned from night-time to the cold blue of an ice-covered morning. 

Esther felt herself slipping into the bright white.

A tiny part of herself clung on; a pulsing, dark red sliver, a fragile ember. The ice rushed to smother it but was beaten back. The ember became a spark fed by her strength…her humanity. The feather fell, the diamond glittered, the wine flowed, the wound bled. She cracked and the Darkness rushed in, melting the ice; memories flooded in of the people she’d not been able to save, the people she had saved, the souls she’d ushered out, the souls she’d ushered in, the defeats, the triumphs, the pain and the grief, the joy and pleasure, the messy ecstasy of being human.

Esther looked into the Night King’s eyes and he saw the darkness drown the blue. She reached up and gripped his hand, twisting it away. He roared in agony as she left red fingerprints in his palm. 

The dream fractured, she’d won this battle for herself.

She found herself outside the great weirwood tree again, lit by a weak sun. The red leaves skittered in a biting breeze. Stepping over the ring of stones, she entered under the roots.

“You’ve returned so soon,” the Raven rattled and she nodded, “I thought it would’ve taken you longer to welcome my teaching.”

“I don’t want your teaching, I want your knowledge,” Esther said and the Raven looked shocked.

“Such arrogance,” he stated.

“Not arrogance, “Esther corrected, “you and I are equals in power; now I want to be equals in knowledge. I’ve seen who’s coming, now I need to know everything else.”

“Everything else?” the Raven questioned, “it will take time…so much time…and you won’t be able to return to your body until we are finished…are you prepared to make this sacrifice?”

“I don’t have a choice. But…will I have a body to go back to?” she hated her ignorance and her weakness for human things but she had to ask.

“You will,” the Raven said, “you will be…paused…frozen in time…until you choose to return…but once back you won’t be able to come here again.”

“Because you can see your own end is coming.” Esther stated and the Raven nodded.

“Let us begin,” he said and they went back to the beginning.

Night drifted on and The Hound kept watch.

Esther didn’t wake when morning came. She didn’t wake up that day or the next or the next. The Sisters tried everything to wake her; they gave her foul tasting mixtures, hot and cold compresses were placed on her skin, they pricked her feet with needles, they shouted and screamed in her ear, Arya begged and cajoled her for hours, he sat with her every night. Days turned to weeks.

“I don’t understand how she can still be alive,” Morenna said as she paced up and down in front of the fire. Snow fell outside and Arya, The Hound, Wenna and Dai sat at the table. The other senior sisters were mixing up yet more herbs into a powerful stimulant in the apothecary room.

“She’s taken no food or drink for nearly a month. She’s not shit or pissed in that time either.” Wenna rolled two cigarettes and passed one to Moranna.

“Her hair’s still growing though,” Arya said, picking at the skin around her nails.

“Can’t you just use magic to get her…go into her like she used to do and…and pull her out? She said some of you could do that,” everyone turned to look at Sandor.

“We’ve tried that…there’s nothing to bring back. It’s like she’s an empty jug, just a blank space.” Moranna answered, running her hands over her face in frustration as Sandor looked down at the table top and took a gulp of ale.

“Where could she’ve gone?” asked Dai.

“She could be lost, unable to find her way to back to herself? I’ve read about this happening to other Sisters in the past,” Wenna said, looking hopefully at Moranna, who shook her head.

“Their bodies died. No, she’s not lost, she’s gone somewhere.”

“But where?” demanded Arya.

“I don’t know…we’ll just have to wait for her to come back.” But this solution didn’t sit well with any of them.

The Hound and Arya walked down to the harbour with Moranna and Wenna, Dai was getting the boat ready to sail.

“Are you sure you won’t stay?” Wenna pleaded with Arya.

“No. It’s been over two months and she’s not come back, she’ll never come back,” Arya said with palpable anger.  
“Where will you go?” Moranna asked The Hound.

“Her brother’s at The Wall, I’ll take her to him,” he indicated to Arya.

“And where will you go,” she asked but he ignored her question.

“You’re always welcome back here,” she said, almost tentatively, he ignored that too.

Moranna and Wenna watched the boat sail out of the harbour and away over the sea. They began the walk back to the convent in silence.

Esther witnessed everything. 

She travelled through The Dawn Age, watching The Children wield their magic. Then came the arrival of the First Men from Essos, she watched them fight nearly to the brink of extinction on both sides; she saw the First Women create the Shard Witch again, sacrificing themselves for the possibility of beating the Night King. She witnessed The Pact being signed at Gods Eye but she had also seen the creation of the Night King and knew what was to come.

The Long Night was exactly that; people starved in the shadows and White Walkers roamed the land. She was there when the War for the Dawn was fought and Bran the Builder created The Wall. She saw the first of The Night’s Watch there to guard against the White Walkers. For two thousand years, the First Men and the dwindling Children lived in Westeros; the Giants left and then the Children disappeared.

Time had no meaning for Esther. She didn’t think about herself, she wasn’t really aware of herself as an individual, she was simply an observer with no stake or agency in what she saw. Sometimes she heard the Raven whispering to her but mostly she was alone.

The Andals arrived and so began the creation of Westeros. The invasion and subsequent colonisation blurred by; thousands of years flooded through and she saw Westeros carved up by the evolving Houses with only the North remaining. 

She observed the Valyrian supremacy rule for nearly 5,000 years. The dragons burned their enemies until there were none left. 

Then came The Doom. The string of volcanoes erupted simultaneously, swallowing up Valyria and destroying the empire. The Century of Blood followed in Essos when the surrounding countries with an anarchic free for all land grab. 

She witnessed Aegon Targaryen and his sister-wives Rhaenys and Visenya breach Blackwater Rush with their dragons and so began their conquest. On the Field of Fire, House Gardener was destroyed and the Lannisters bent the knee for Aegon. Torrehn Stark, her ancestor, also bent the knee, relinquishing his title of King in the North, there wouldn’t be another one for over 400 years. Eventually all bowed in the face of Targaryen dragons and the War of Conquest ended.

Now, Esther moved through the next 4 centuries; places and events becoming more and more familiar until she arrived in the years of the Mad King. 

Her father…it was her father as she remembered him. Greying and proud, still so strong; raging against Rhaegar Targaryen’s abduction of her beautiful sister Lyanna. Esther remained in Westeros, watching events that she had only the vaguest memory of. She followed Brandon on his journey to King’s Landing to request justice for the Targaryen insult against his family only to be imprisoned by the Mad King. Her father then rode south to answer for his son’s insult, she screamed at him not to go but he couldn’t hear her. She was there when he was burned alive…nothing but ash blown by the wind. She felt the rope tighten round Brandon’s neck and then he was also dead…all because Lyanna was beautiful and Rhaegar was weak. She didn’t want to see Robert Baratheon’s war she knew was coming.

All the time something was pulling Esther towards the northern edge of Dorne; finally, it became too powerful and she allowed herself to be drawn over the sea to the Red Mountains. 

A tower.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm still playing catch-up to the juicy stuff - it's all a bit 'shark-jumpy' but really, who cares? It's only a bit of fun after all. Thanks for reading, especially as you know of all of this...think of it like study notes or something.

Esther found herself walking up steps. Kingsguard were guarding the tower but they didn’t see her. Esther pushed open the door at the top of the tower and saw her.

“Lyanna,” Esther gasped out loud; she hadn’t spoken for thousands of years and her sister’s name was her first word.

Lyanna, beautiful and alive, was brushing her hair, flower petals floated to the floor as she did so. She turned to see who had spoken.

“Who are you?” Lyanna asked as the strange yet familiar woman stood staring at her.

“You can see me?” asked Esther.

“Of course I can, do I know you? Did Rhaegar send you?” Lyanna looked puzzled.

“Lyanna it’s me, it’s Esther,” her sister laughed.

“You’re not Esther, she’s a little girl and she’s back at Winterfell…who are you?” she began to look concerned.

“Lyanna…I promise it’s me, it’s Esther…please it’s me…do…do you remember when Ned and Ben locked me in the log store and wouldn’t let me out…you were the one who threatened them with a pitchfork until they gave you the key…and…and do you remember when the Septa said she’d cut my hair off if I didn’t learn to embroider a wolf and you stayed up half the night doing it for me? It was always you who’d clean me up after I’d been out where I wasn’t supposed to, you who picked out all the splinters from my hands when I fell out of the tree, you would brush my hair every night and then tell me stories of Bran the Builder until I fell asleep…please, it’s me…” Esther, who never cried, felt tears prick her eyes as she finally saw the flash of recognition from her sister who’d been dead for over 2 decades.

“Esther?” Lyanna stood up and Esther rushed to embrace her. Burying her head in her sister’s neck, Esther breathed in her familiar scent and it hurt more than any wound.

“But you’re old,” Lyanna said in disbelief and Esther laughed.

“I’m…I’m not sure how you can see me…I…I’m a…” how could she tell her sister everything that had happened?

“You’re a witch.” Esther finished for her, “Of course you are, I’ve always known it. It’s not unusual for the Starks.”

“How did you know?” Esther gaped.

“You brought my dog back to life when you were only a year old; you always knew what was coming even before father did…it was obvious…but why are you here now? Has something happened to me?” Lyanna was as clever as she was beautiful but what could Esther say?

“How does Father and the others react to my marriage to Rhaegar?” Lyanna looked nervous.  
“You married him? But..but…we were told he abducted you and…and raped you?” Esther couldn’t stop herself.

“What? No! After he made me the Queen of Love and Beauty at the tourney we…we talked in secret…his marriage to Ellia Martell has been annulled…we’re married…Esther…why don’t you know this? Why don’t you know all this? What happens to me…to Rhaegar…to our child?” Lyanna’s voice rose to a scream and she gripped her sister’s hand.

“Your child?” Esther realised Lyanna was plumper than she’d ever been before.

“Esther! Tell me, why don’t you know all of this?” Lyanna desperately searched her sister’s face.

“I…I can’t tell you…I’m just here to observe…I don’t know how you can even see me…I...” Esther felt the now familiar pull, knowing she was about to leave, “Lyanna, I love you…I love you so much…please…”

“Esther!” screamed Lyanna but her sister had disappeared.

Esther was dragged over the sea and back to Westeros. Robert’s Rebellion was won and Ned returned to Winterfell with his bastard. 

Time sped up and she flew through the familiar years of Robert’s rule, his death and the War. 

Now she was back at the convent, watching Arya and Sandor boarding a ship for the main land.

She saw them land and begin the long journey to The Wall. Somewhere, on a moorland, a tall woman in armour with Podrick Payne, Tyrion’s squire, in tow, came upon them. She watched the fight between this woman and The Hound but there was nothing she could do to stop it. As the final blow was delivered and The Hound fell, Esther felt a part of her fall with him. Begging Arya to kill him, she hoped her niece would grant him this kindness but Arya didn’t…he was left to die. 

She followed Arya to the shore and saw her board a ship to Braavos but Esther couldn’t leave him to die alone, even if he couldn’t see or hear her. She went back to the lonely hill side and waited with him for the end. 

Over the path came a rumbling cart being guided by a man who was humming. He noticed a body and sauntered over to look.

“Oh you poor soul…well, let’s get you a decent burial at least,” he said and heaved a shovel over his shoulder.

“He’s not dead,” Esther screamed but the man couldn’t hear her.

“Wake up,” she railed at Sandor but to no avail.

“Oof…you were a big man,” said the gravedigger jovially and it was at this point that Sandor coughed.

“Seven shitting hells,” shouted the man but grabbed a water bottle and forced some between Sandor’s lips. Esther had hope for him and could now leave, there was so much more for her to see.

She was there when Arya landed in Braavos. She stayed with her throughout her training with the Faceless Men. She saw her niece become a skilled assassin but was relieved when she wouldn’t kill the actress. She saw The Waif do her best to end Arya and finally left when it was clear no-one could best the youngest Stark girl.

Esther returned to King’s Landing and watched the High Sparrow lay waste to Cersei’s plans and power. Again, she was struck with admiration for this most dangerous of Lannister’s. She lost her daughter to Dornish poison, she lost her remaining son to the Tyrell’s and then to the twisted religious offerings. She was beaten, humiliated and ostracized and yet…Esther never doubted Cersei’s capacity for resurrection. 

She was proved right when Cersei used Wildfire to blow up the Sept of Baelor with everyone inside…destroying the Tyrell’s, the Seven and any other enemies in the city in one fell swoop. Esther stayed just long enough to see Tommen throw himself out of the window before she returned to the North.

Esther had never seen Jon Snow, her bastard nephew, before. He was unassuming at first glance, reluctant and quiet. But she knew in her bones, he was so much more; he had Lyanna’s eyes. She watched him rally the tattered Night’s Watch into a fighting force, she watched him kill his lover for his men; he was a Stark man through and through, duty above all else. 

She watched as he gave Mance Rayder a better death than Stannis Baratheon was willing to award. She noticed Stannis’ man going by the name of Ser Davos, a title that seemed to fit like poorly made clothes on him, give Jon some excellent advice which he promptly ignored…oh yes Jon was a Stark.

He refused to bend the knee to Stannis and then he was leader of the Night’s Watch…her nephew certainly lead a very interesting life. Esther couldn’t help but begin to like this dour boy but she doubted things were about to get any easier for him.

It wasn’t long before she was proven right; after killing the boy and allowing the man to be born (a typical Targaryen view if anyone had been able to ask Esther) Jon made the decision to allow the Wildlings through the Wall. It begged the question, why had they been fighting in the first place if this was Jon’s first decision but Esther recognised that she had a privileged vantage point. She observed Jon skilfully dodge the Red Woman who appeared to be abandoning Stannis…she’d been right not to trust her all those months ago; then watched as he bargained with the huge Wildling named Tormund Giantsbane…whom she was rather taken with, even in her ethereal state. Stannis left to wage war on the revolting Boltons and Jon headed beyond The Wall again.

Hardhome.

Esther saw it all. She wouldn’t allow herself to look away. It was the first time anyone had seen the White Walkers in battle for thousands of years but it felt like yesterday to Esther. She saw the Free Folk fall by the dozens but she also saw Jon destroy a White Walker like it was glass…Valyrian steel. The Night King watched as Jon and the last remaining Wildlings sail away from the massacre as if he was the only threat. As the tiny boats disappeared from view, the Night King turned upwards and Esther could’ve sworn he looked her in the eye… she followed the boats knowing she couldn’t do anything…yet.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm *almost* all caught up now. Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think if you can.

Shireen Baratheon burned for nothing. The little girl’s shrieks rang in Esther’s ears as she saw Stannis’ army destroyed by the Bolton forces. Stannis, grievously wounded in the struggle and hunched by a tree, he was approached by Brienne, who explained it was her solemn duty to avenge Renly. "I, Brienne of Tarth, sentence you to die," she said. "Go on, do your duty," shrugged Stannis. Inside he was dead already and Esther went over the sea again, to see the Dragon Queen.

Daenerys and her dragons were a sight to see. Esther marvelled at the woman’s strength that didn’t come solely from her children. She admired her from the beginning. 

Following her from her first tentative steps as a powerful queen, through her dealings with the Slavers and then on to a very impressive encounter with the Khals, Esther was in awe of Daenerys Targaryen just as Tyrion, Varys, Jorah Mormont and all the others who crossed her path were. Oh yes, she and her dragons were awe-inspiring. 

Esther was reluctant to leave but she was dragged to The Vale and Sansa. 

If Esther had ever doubted Sansa’s survival ability, she was proved wrong time and again. She watched as the girl negotiated Little Finger’s intrigues and plots. 

Winterfell.

Esther had never returned home, had never wanted to return…but she did for Sansa. She didn’t turn away from her torture at the hands of Ramsay Bolton…she owed her niece that much at least. 

As Sansa and Theon held hands and jumped from the battlements of Winterfell, Esther was absolutely certain of her survival. 

And so…finally…Esther was back at The Wall. She had no idea why she’d returned here, her nephew was still dead. Her journey had taken back and forth across the sea, north and south and east and west over thousands and thousands of years yet she’d never returned to the same time twice.

“You need to go to what is about to happen,” whispered a paper dry voice in her ear and she turned to see the Raven standing next to her.

With Samwell Tarly gone, Stannis gone and only a few men still loyal and that Red Witch, Esther knew Jon wouldn’t last very long. But still, the betrayal, when it did come, was brutal and shocking. As his blood stained the snow, Esther could only watch as the life left him. 

The sky turned from night to day.

“Go into the room at the top of the stairs,” he directed but Esther stopped and the scene below her paused.

“Someone else is talking to you,” she said as the murmuring on the cusp of hearing got louder as the Raven came closer to her.

“Yes…it is your nephew Bran…he is gifted…more gifted even than you,”

“He’ll replace you,” Esther stated and the Raven gave a dry laugh.

“How will it happen?” she asked.

“The Night King and Bran will join and this will allow the White Walkers to enter the weirwood tree…death will come for some but Bran will live…he is important…he is the three-eyed raven now.”

“When?” Esther asked, remembering the small boy she’d seen in her dream on a hillside so very long ago.

“I can’t see but soon I think,” he answered.

“I’ve seen so much…what do I do with what I know?” she asked, unable to keep the anxiety from her voice.

“You have a long journey still to take…find the balance…” and she felt the Raven leave her side and the scene came to life below her. She climbed the steps and entered a room lit only by fire.

The body was lying on a table as the Red Woman whispered meaningless words over it but it did no good. Melisandre left in defeat, as did all the others except Ser Davos, perhaps holding out hope from her time with Stannis but then even he surrendered. 

Esther walked round the table and went to lay her hand on Jon’s heart, trying to find the tiniest indication of life; his Direwolf followed her. As soon as her hand touched his skin, she felt an enormous surge of power. She saw his eyes snap open and heard him draw in a huge breath.

A very young noviate had just finished gently washing and drying Esther’s face when the Shard Witch’s eyes opened and she flexed her hand. The girl screamed long and loud and ran out of the room as if all the demons had been let loose. 

Esther took huge breaths and grasped at the heavy furs laid over her bed. She turned her head from left to right and couldn’t seem to work out where or when she was. Something was different, this didn’t feel like another story to observe.

Gods she needed to piss really badly but her legs didn’t seem to want to work. Opening her mouth, she was dismayed to find she couldn’t speak.

The door opened and Moranna entered quickly followed by Maud, Elena and Wenna. Esther, who still couldn’t make a sound, lifted her head off the pillow and tried to indicate her desperate need to pee.

“Shit the fucking bed, you’re awake…” Moranna gaped.

“Pee” croaked Esther, “I need to pee…”

“I’m not bloody surprised,” Wenna said, in total shock like everyone else, “you’ve been asleep for 730 days.”

The freezing rain battered the windows of Moranna’s room as Esther drank her weak broth like a woman who’d not had food since Winter began (which was the truth).

“So, you saw the whole of history?” Wenna asked and Esther nodded.

“Why?” she asked, voicing the question all the Sisters had.

“I needed to know it…to be the balance in the war to come…” she croaked.

“What does that mean?” Moranna asked but Esther shrugged.

“I need to find the Unburnt Queen…she’s in Essos…I need to go…” but Esther was interrupted.

“You’ve been asleep for the longest time, you can’t walk, you can barely speak. You’re not going anywhere for a while.” Moranna said firmly and she was right.

Every day the Sisters walked Esther up and down and through the halls until her atrophied muscles grew strong enough to take steps on her own. In the evenings, she smoked and talked with Moranna and Wenna, recounting all the things she’d seen and learnt, about what it could mean and what might happen. 

Over the next 70 days news filtered through to the convent; the destruction of the Sept of Baelor by Cersei, the chaos in the Iron Islands with the return of Euron Grey joy and the Battle of the Bastards…it was the news that Winterfell was once again Stark that weighed heavily on Esther’s mind.

“I...I think I need to go home…” she said one night over a cup of firemead and Moranna nodded.

“I agree…do you think you’re ready?” and she watched Esther closely.

“For the forthcoming battle? Who the fuck knows. Ready for going back to Winterfell? Absolutely fucking not.” Esther drew hard on the cigarette and all Moranna could do was stare into the fire.

The tiny harbour was still as grey and closed as it had been before but now it was covered with ice, it’d taken all of Dai’s skill to cut through the near frozen sea. Esther stepped onto the ground and could’ve kissed it, she was still a terrible sailor.

“Take care,” Dai said and she nodded and left, anymore and she might never have gone.

It took her a week to get to the Kingsroad and another week to get to the shore of Long Lake. Winter had bitten and bitten hard, she’d seen very few people other than bands of peasants escaping as far south as they could. She was 3 days from Winterfell.

Everything was so familiar, even the freezing air tasted known. Esther trudged through the snow and saw the gates emerge from the horizonless white. However, instead of knocking on the huge wooden doors, she walked round the east of them, to a side gate.

“What do you want Sister?” asked the dozy and cold looking guard on duty.

“I…I thought I could offer my services to the Starks,” Esther lied, still not inside the family home she could barely remember.

“Aye well there’s some big gathering with all the Houses, nowt to do ‘til that’s over,” he said, picking his nose and wiping it on his trousers; Esther had had enough, she gripped his arm and his eyes glazed over even more than they already were and she stepped into Winterfell.

Nobody noticed her. She walked through without being challenged and slipped into the Great Hall…the guard hadn’t been wrong when he’d said every House was there. She recognised the Cerwyns, Glovers, Hornwoods, Manderleys…some of them were familiar and had served her father, others were younger than her. Jon Snow and Sansa sat at the table, side by side; Esther noticed a figure hidden the shadows watching everything…Petyr Baelish…the orchestrator of all the madness of the War of the Five Kings and what came after…Esther’s palms tingled but she resisted the urge to burn him to ash…he could wait. She listened carefully as Jon tried desperately to make them all understand about the coming of the Night King, she could tell some believed him but others were reluctant, he spoke powerfully and honestly and Esther was looking forward to finally meeting him. She also saw the Free Folk sitting with Tormund Giantsbane and Ser Davos looking frustrated

A small, dark girl stood up as the men of the other Houses began to mutter to themselves. Esther supposed that she was a Mormont, she couldn’t think of another House that would’ve been smart enough to put their trust in an eleven-year-old girl…perhaps she was Lyanna Mormont’s daughter and was mildly gratified when she was proved right…this head of House Mormont was as strong and clever as the others before her had been; she took down the men with a mastery that made Esther’s heart sing.

When Lord Manderley and then Lord Glover declared for the White Wolf and proclaimed Jon Snow the King in the North, Esther knew all the others would follow, but she also caught the look that Sansa gave Littlefinger…something to be watched perhaps?

As the gathering broke up and the Houses began to celebrate the newly heralded King, Esther approached the table, no-one seemed to notice she was there until…

“Hey you…Sister…do I know you?” the voice bellowed across the Hall and Esther closed her eyes and turned to face the speaker. It was Lord Manderley, flushed from the ale he’d been drinking. His hair and beard were now mostly white but he was still the man whom her father had trusted all those years ago. He squinted a little at the woman standing in front of him and then the look of recognition made his eyes grow huge and his mouth gape open.  
“Seven hells…Esther Stark?” he was still bellowing and her name echoed around her home for the first time since the end of the last winter.

“Lord Manderley…I’m glad to see you’ve survived all these years.” Esther said quietly but her voice carried over the noise.

“Esther Stark?” he repeated to the rapidly quieting Hall. Everyone turned to look at her and she heard Sansa gasp.

“You?” Sansa said, eyes wide with absolute shock. Esther thought quickly and dropped a low bow.

“My Lady Stark,” and she turned to Jon, “my King.” She looked up to meet his eye.

“You’re Esther Stark?” Lord Glover said, “But you’re meant to be dead. Nobody’s seen hide nor hair of you for years.”

Esther opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by Sansa.

“This is my aunt, this is Esther Stark,” and she nodded her head towards Esther who reciprocated.

“How do you know?” Lord Glover asked.

“She rescued me from King’s Landing and took me to The Eyrie. She saved my life.” Sansa said and looked at Jon who was staring at the woman standing there. 

“Who in hells is Esther Stark?” he asked; there was a beat of silence and then the Hall erupted.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's only one episode left...too sooooooooon. Thanks, as always, for reading and please let me know what you think if you can.

Some of the Lords recognised her, some of them had only heard the rumours, others had no clue there was another Stark of Ned’s generation. Manderley, Glover and Hornwood, who had been her father’s bannermen, were suspicious of her and didn’t hide it; the North remembers and these men certainly remembered the legends about Rickard Stark’s youngest daughter. Information and misinformation was passed up and down the Hall at speed whilst Sansa, the Maestor and the Lords tried to explain to Jon who she was, all at the same time…Esther was ignored. 

She understood their dismay at her return; the North had only just regained some semblance of order after the Battle of the Bastards, a new and far more deadly threat was looming and Ned Stark’s bastard had just been proclaimed King in the North…now a woman with a stronger claim than either Jon Snow or Lady Sansa had arrived out of nowhere.

Sighing, she pushed her way through the crowd and out into the passageway…leading to the kitchens if she remembered rightly. Dropping her pack, she took out her tobacco pouch and began to roll a cigarette, she’d wait for them to sort themselves out and then they could come to her. With the wooden door closed, the roar was dulled to a whisper like the sea. She noticed a worn divot in the frame and touched it gently…where she’d practiced with her father’s sword as a young girl…she smiled. There wasn’t anywhere to sit so she sat on the floor with her back to the cold wall…it could’ve felt like home.

“Are you who they say you are?” she looked up to see Davos watching her carefully; without any fire, the end of her smoke glowed in the shadows.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said.

“Yes, I’m a witch; yes, I’ve been gone for a very long time and yes, I was sent away by Ned because he was scared of me but no…I’m not here to reclaim my birth right and no, I’m not dangerous…” she paused and corrected herself, “I’m no danger to Jon or Sansa or anyone else fighting against the Night King.”

Davos gave her a hard stare that she met without flinching. In the end, he sat down next to her with a grunt.

“So, you’re not here to be Lady of Winterfell?” he asked and indicated for her to pass him her tobacco pouch which she did, he expertly rolled himself a cigarette and then raised his eyebrows. She gave a wry smile and it glowed red, he inhaled deeply and then coughed.

“Seven hells this is Black NightSong Leaf, where the fuck did you get it from?” and he inhaled again, this time prepared for the sweet burn from the tobacco.

“They grow it at my convent…actually, most of my pack is rolls of the stuff,” and Davos gave her smile, “To answer your other question, I’d rather take the fucking Black than be Lady of anything. When Ned’s children were born, I was relieved it would never come to me and then they started dying…I was shitting it.” Davos laughed, he was very easy to talk to; of course, it helped that she was well acquainted with him from her dream but he didn’t know her from a kick in the teeth, yet he was treating her like a friend. 

“Some of the Lords are saying you’re the Shard Witch,” he said easily, after a companionable silence.

“They’re right,” Esther answered and Davos stared at her.

“I thought that was just a story?”

“So was the Night King and White Walkers and Giants until people came to face to face with them,” Esther said wryly.

“Good point,” he said, “so what does it mean…being the Shard Witch?”

“I’m the balance between ice and fire, dark and light, the night and the day. The Shard Witch was created by the Children and the First Women…they knew the Battle for the Dawn wasn’t over you see?”

“Not really,” Davos said, honestly and Esther gave one of her rare smiles.

“It took me a very long time to understand it…I’m still not really sure what I can do…but he’s coming and I need to be here.”

“What made you come back now?” Davos ground the cigarette out on the flagstones and, just for a moment, Esther thought about what her mother would’ve said had she seen this.

“I’m a Moontide Sister. Until Ned’s death, I was out in the world doing my sisterly duties. I knew something was coming but I didn’t know what; then I learned my nieces were prisoners of the Lannisters so I travelled to get them. I had to start using my powers more and more, and with that came visions of what was to come and what had gone before. I returned to my convent where I learned more…much more. When I heard Starks were back at Winterfell, I knew I had to come back.” she answered, “What about you, you don’t seem like those other cunts in there?” and she nodded to the Hall.

“I was a smuggler, born in Fleabottom and a crabber’s son,” he said with a forthrightness Esther appreciated, “I followed Stannis Baratheon and now I follow Jon Snow.”

“You were the last one to leave after the Red Woman tried to bring him back.” Esther said, giving him an appraising stare.

“Now how the fuck would you know that?” he asked.

“Witch,” she said, simply and he laughed.

 

“So, you’ve been out in the world, you’ve seen real life, away from the great Houses. You know about the Night King and his army of the dead and you say you’re part of what’s to come…what if he doesn’t want your help? You’ve said yourself you were sent away before they were born…Jon didn’t even know you existed…he’s been betrayed by people he trusted before…” Davos didn’t know how to carry on but Esther knew what he was trying to say.

“If Jon doesn’t want me to stay here, I won’t. I’ll go beyond The Wall on my own. I’m the most powerful witch that the Seven Kingdoms has seen in more than 8,000 years. I’ve seen the past and the present and this is what I was created for. I want to help Jon defeat Winter but I will do what I have to without him,” she took a last drag of her cigarette and continued, “The reason I’m telling you is because I know you had…dealings with The Red Woman and I know about her failings and Shireen…” Davos flinched at the mention of her name, “But I’m not like her, my power doesn’t come from the Lord of Light, whoever he might be, my power is much older and it doesn’t demand a sacrifice. Jon trusts you and if you trust me…then I’m more than halfway home.” 

Davos watched as the woman stubbed out her cigarette. She didn’t look much like any of the other Starks but then neither did Jon. She clearly didn’t hold much stock in the great Houses of the North and, if what he’d heard about her from the Northerners was true, she had good reason to feel like this. He had no doubt that what she had told him was the truth…not complete but the truth nonetheless. He had learned long ago to trust his gut and it was telling him to believe in this strange Stark. Apart from anything his gut was telling him, he also found her to be very…magnetic…yes, that was a good word for her…one that Shireen would’ve been proud of him for knowing.

The door opened and Jon walked through, looking grim.

“We need to talk,” he said and walked into an antechamber without another word. Esther gave Davos a look and he smiled, encouragingly. Holding out his hand, he helped her up and followed her into the room.

In the end Sansa, Brienne, Tormund and Davos were there for the first meeting between Jon and Esther.

“I’ve just heard a lot of rumours about you,” Jon said sitting at the table with his back to the fire, Sansa sat down next to him with Brienne behind her, Tormund sat the other side and Davos took the seat nearest Esther.

She nodded, “and now do you want the truth?” she asked. He nodded so she told him.

Davos threw more logs onto the fire, Esther’s story had taken long enough for the original wood to burn away. The others round the table looked stunned. Esther rolled a cigarette, waiting for their reaction.

“Well…fuck me,” said Tormund, voicing how the others felt better than they could’ve done.

“Why should I believe you?” Jon asked.

“You don’t have to; if you don’t believe me then you don’t believe me. I’ll go North on my own.” Esther blew out a plume of smoke and assessed her nephew; yes, he was as dour as she’d seen but there was also a relentlessness there that she appreciated.

“Why didn’t any of us know anything about you?” Jon asked.

“Ned decided to send me to the convent when Robb was a new-born…perhaps he regretted it or perhaps he wanted to forget about his troublesome younger sister. Maester Luwin thought it was for the best and, as usual, he turned out to be right. Ned had no reason to tell you about me.”

“And you say you have magical powers?” asked Brienne doubtfully.

Esther sighed and turned to the fire; it roared up the chimney turning from orange to blue to white, it formed a Direwolf and whipped around the room. Tormund and Brienne drew their weapons, ready to protect the others, but as suddenly as it appeared, it was gone and replaced with a piercing cold; frost crept up the stone walls forming the sign from the Fist of the First. Esther blinked and warmth returned, scraping back her chair she threw more logs on the fire, the others eaten up. They all looked scared except Jon.

“That’s a good party trick but it doesn’t prove anything,” he said, carefully keeping his shock in check. Esther nodded, impressed with the canniness of her nephew.

“You’re right, it proves nothing,” she said quietly and the shadows deepened to a dark blue as she spoke, “I saw Hardhome. I saw Karsi side with you against the Thenns. I saw her put her daughters in the boat. I saw how frightened she was for them. I saw her fight with you against the Army of the Dead and fall…then I saw her rise as one of them,” she could feel Tormund’s eyes burning into her back but she continued, “I saw you fight the White Walker…I saw you draw Longclaw and shatter it like glass,” the shadows darkened even further, Esther’s face was very white and her eyes, always meeting Jon’s, were almost black in the thick obscurity, “I saw Olly stab you, I felt the blade slide into your heart. I was there when Melisandre tried to bring you back. I laid my hand on your broken chest and pulled at the thread and I was there when you opened your eyes. You weren’t alone; Ghost was there…and so was I.”

The shadows whispered away and the soft firelight returned, Brienne let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding and Sansa unclenched her hands which caused Esther to turn to her.

“And you my love…all I can say is I’m sorry. If I’d have known what would happen to you, I’d never have left you…I’d have crushed The Eyrie and your aunt and Littlefinger. I’d have burned the Bolton’s whilst they slept…but you survived…just like you survived everything else…you’re not the girl I took from King’s Landing and I’m so proud…” A smile ghosted over Sansa’s lips and she nodded slightly.

“So, you really are The First Witch?” Tormud asked, leaning across the table and scrutinising Esther’s face with no regard for personal space; she didn’t mind, she was still quite taken with the big Free man.

“The First Witch?” she asked.

“Yes, we have a story about you too…the Children created the first witch the world had ever known to protect the Free Folk from harm. We tell our children to thank you every time something good happens…a good hunt or a lucky escape,” and he gave her a huge grin, “I shall add to the story by explaining that she is also kissed by fire.” Esther looked quizzically at the others.

“Ginger,” translated Jon and he thought fleetingly of Ygritte. Without thinking, Esther reached across the table and gripped his hand.

“Remember her but forgive yourself,” she said and shocked him even further but he didn’t pull his hand away. 

“What do you mean when you say you’re the balance?” he asked.

“This is a battle of the living and the dead…between those 2 is balance. Day doesn’t instantly transform into night, there is dusk…too much one way or the other and the world isn’t right…I am that balance…neither light or dark, Winter or Summer…”

“You’re Autumn,” said Brienne softly and Esther nodded.

“How can you help us defeat the Night King?” Jon asked.

“The Shard Witch was created using the same magic as the Night King to ensure the antidote was powerful enough to defeat him…I’m the last remaining warrior from the beginning of this Battle.”

“Can you defeat him?” Jon met her eyes.

“I don’t know,” Esther answered, “but I’ll try my fucking best,” and even Brienne smiled.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monday is fast approaching. This is still all filler and no killer so thanks for reading and please let me know what you think.

All of them returned to the Hall and Jon pronounced that Esther Stark had indeed returned to Winterfell as a Moontide Sister, to help in the coming war. There were rumblings from the Lords but she was gratified to see Lady Mormont conferring with her men and then smile at her.

The King in the North then began to tell the Lords how they were going to fight the Night King, starting with Dragonglass. Esther slipped out of the Hall and wandered the rooms and passageways of her first home, reacquainting herself with Winterfell and her past. Outside the snow fell in the blue night.

It was very strange to be sleeping in Winterfell after so many years; Esther was surprised to find the creaks and whistles familiar and comfortable. She’d chosen an anonymous guest bedroom even though Sansa offered her the main bedroom where her father and mother had slept.

She slept so heavily, she was surprised when a servant woke her well after dawn. She dressed in the last of her clean clothes and went to see what she could see. 

The man-at-arms was starting to train the boys in preparation for what was to come. Esther saw Sansa, Jon and Davos watching from the balcony and went to join them. Neither looked very happy.

“Cersei Lannister has demanded that Jon bends the knee to her,” Sansa said, grimly.

“She’s short on allies,” Esther said, “but she’s ruthless…another enemy for us.” Jon sighed and Sansa seemed frustrated but they were interrupted before she could question them any further.

“Hey First Witch!” they all turned to see Tormund looking up at them, “Can you fight?’

“I’m a witch, I don’t need to,” she called down but Tormund.

“Everyone needs to know how to fight. Come down here.”

She looked at the others who threw their hands up in defeat.

“He won’t give up until he gets the answer he wants,” Jon said, Esther sighed and made her way down to the courtyard.

“Can you shoot?” Tormud asked and thrust a bow into her hand before she could answer.

Nocking the arrow, she drew back the string and aimed at the target. Breathing out slowly, she loosed it and hit the bullseye. Sansa applauded.

“Anyone can hit a target that’s not moving… can you hit a man in the heat of battle?” Tormund provoked. Maintaining eye contact, Esther waved her hand in the direction of the target which promptly burst into flame.

“Bloody hell,” exclaimed Davos and Esther smiled.

“More party tricks, what about man to man?” Tormund asked and Esther sighed. Brienne and Podrick had joined Sansa and most of the other work in the courtyard had stopped to watch what might happen next. He threw her a staff and turned to face her with a grin. He was much taller and broader than she was, he clearly thought she didn’t have a chance.

“No magic,” he said, “let’s keep this a fair fight.” He then flipped the end of his staff and caught her knuckles; it hurt like a bastard, particularly as she was freezing. There were boos from the assembled crowd so Tormund threw back his head and laughed. Esther took this opportunity to hit him sharply in the balls and, when he was doubled over, hit him under the chin with her staff, she then took his feet out from under him and he landed on his back. The crowd cheered and she took an ostentatious bow…this turned out to be a mistake. Tormund got back on his feet surprisingly quickly, grabbing her round the waist he threw her over his shoulder. With her still screaming, he walked over to the half-frozen horse trough and dumped her into the painfully cold water. Grabbing the sides, she tried to pull herself out, gasping and choking, but her hands slipped on the metal edges and she went under again.

“Fuck…fucking hell…you son of a whore…shit…” Esther gasped. Finally, she managed to sit up and shake the water from her eyes, only to see everyone, including Jon and Sansa, laughing and Tormund enjoying the crowd. He then turned and heaved her out of the trough where she stood next to him, looking like a drowned ginger cat.

“Not bad First Witch,” he roared and clapped her on the back. He walked away, preening to the crowd and in particular Brienne who gave a dirty look and then ignored him; Esther squelched her way to the door.

“Are you all right?” asked Sansa and she nodded.

“You nearly bested him,” said Brienne, “impressive…for someone who’s clearly not a soldier.” 

“Ttthhaaannk yoouuuu,” Esther said through chattering teeth.

“Come with me, my Lady,” said a servant woman, “you need to get out of those wet clothes and into a warm bath before you catch your death.”

“It’s Esther, not my Lady,” she said and missed Davos’ smile.

She peeled off the dripping clothes and wrapped herself in the furs from her bed. Servants scurried in and out carrying pails of hot water for the bath placed in the middle of the room. When it was full, she sank gratefully into the warm water and felt herself warm up. 

After her skin had turned from blue back to its normal colour, she got out, dried off and sat back on the bed, shuffling into the furs again. Esther had a dilemma, she had no clothes; a servant had come and taken them all to be washed, she didn’t even have any underthings. Peering out of her door, she saw the corridor was empty. Even though she didn’t put much stock in hierarchy, she knew Rickard Stark’s last daughter being caught walking naked through the halls of Winterfell wasn’t the done thing. She closed the door and waited for someone to come to her.

There was a knock and Davos entered, looking down at the floor.

“Lady Sansa thought you might need these,” he said, proffering a neatly folded stack of clothes.

“I’m covered, you can look,” she said as she took the pile from him. Davos raised his eyes and saw she wrapped in bed linen, very white and smooth shoulders, messy red hair.

“Sansa sent you to deliver my clothes?” Esther asked as she rifled through the pile, looking for something suitable.

“Er..well…I offered,” Davos said, with only a faint trace of sheepishness.

Taking a green shirt and a black pair of soft knitted trousers, Esther disappeared behind the screen. Davos sat down in a chair near the fire and kept his eyes steadfastly on the flames.

“You did well in the courtyard,” he said, “you know how to fight.”

“All the Sisters do, we go out into the world alone…we wouldn’t stand a chance if we couldn’t defend ourselves,” she answered, throwing the sheet over the top of the screen and pulling the shirt over her head; it was too big but it was warm and clean, nobody cared what she looked like anyway, she certainly didn’t.

“I met a Moontide sister once, sailing to Braavos, went by the name of Mistress Raynor…she was a tartar…tongue as sharp as Valyrian steel and twice as mean…but she saved the life of my first mate after a mast crushed his leg,” Davos said, making conversation to distract form the rustling behind the screen.

“She was a bit before my time but a legend in the convent. She had the quickest amputation time of any Sister in the history of my Order and the quickest temper. Apparently, she could arm wrestle a bear, deliver twins and cure Greyscale, all in time for tea…I’d like to have met her,” Esther replied, hopping about on one leg, trying to get the trousers on, they were tighter than her usual attire.

“I think you’d have got on well,” Davos said wryly.

“There’s a bottle of whiskey by the bed, help yourself and pour me a glass,” Esther directed as she fumbled with the laces.

She sat in the chair opposite Davos and sipped her whiskey, waiting for him to say what he’d come to say.

“We could’ve used you in the Hall yesterday,” he said.

“Ah so that’s it,” thought Esther but waited for him to continue.

“Lady Sansa and Jon had a…a disagreement about the Karstarks and Umbers and their castles. Jon’s let them remain in the control of those families, even though they fought for Ramsay Bolton,” he stared at her as she rolled a cigarette.

“And Sansa thinks they should’ve gone to Houses who fought for the Starks?” she said.

“Aye she did and she wasn’t shy about telling Jon in front of the other Lords,” Davos drank some more and she passed him the tobacco pouch.

“So, why would I have been useful?” she asked.

“Because you could’ve talked to them…acted as an…an intermediary…so they weren’t fighting in front of the others,” Davos said, taking a drag of the smoke.

“No…I couldn’t’ve done that,” Esther replied and held up her hand to stop him interrupting her, “Most of the Lords don’t know me, and those that do don’t trust me. If I’d have sided with Sansa it would’ve weakened her standing with them; if I’d have sided with Jon, Sansa and any who thought she was right would be able to use that against him. Anyway…” she took a deep drag and blew out the smoke, “it’s a good thing they disagree…they need to find their own way with each other and with the North, negotiation and compromise is something they both need to learn…my generation is over, they had their time and they fucked it up good and proper…let this generation find their own path.”

Davos stared at her through the smoke.  
“And if this lot fuck it even more?” he asked.

“They won’t,” Esther said simply.

“I wish I had your faith,” Davos said and sipped his whiskey.

“I don’t have faith, I trust in what I can see and with those two I see a wealth of experience and intelligence and talent.” She could tell Davos was still not persuaded.

“Listen,” she said, “All the other rulers and Lords I’ve ever known never listened to anyone but themselves and exiled and executed anyone who dared question them, including my father and brothers…perhaps it’s time for leaders who…who welcome debate and counter-argument? It’s a poor ruler whose ideas are so fragile they can’t stand up to questions.”

“You’ve met a lot of rulers have you?” he asked, after a pause.

Esther gave a mock shrug, “I’ve met a few in my time. Lord or peasant, Maestor or smuggler…they all get the clap at some point in their lives.”

Davos gave a loud laugh. She’d put his ideas into words and he was grateful he’d spoken with her. She was wise, perhaps the wisest person he’d come across in a very long time. If Stannis had had her instead of the damned Red Priestess, things might’ve been very different.

“You’re a singular woman Esther Stark,” he said, adjusting his opinion of her yet again.

“I’ll drink to that,” she said with a smile.

A raven arrived from Dragonstone inviting the King in the North to meet with the Mother of Dragons. Sansa and virtually everyone else thought Jon was foolish for even thinking of going, bad things happened to Northerners in the South.

Esther had kicked Maester Wolkan out of his Physick cell, she needed to replenish her stock of medicines. She was waiting for the Gypsyweed juice to distill when she heard the door open. Jon entered.

“Am I disturbing you?” he asked, Esther shook her head.

“What do you think about Dragonstone?” he asked. He’d been unsure about talking to this aunt who’d only just appeared and whom everyone had an opinion about but Davos suggested he go and speak to her. He couldn’t settle on a judgement of her, she seemed so self-possessed…arrogant even, like she knew more than everyone else…which she probably did…but there was also something else…a side that she rarely allowed to be seen but he’d witnessed it when he’d caught a conversation between her and Lyanna Mormont. Esther had been eating when the fierce Lady of Bear Island had sat beside her and questioned her with more directness than any of the other Lords had dared to. Esther could’ve reprimanded the girl or dismissed her, instead she’d answered every question with a respect Lady Mormont deserved; in the end, she’d won the girl over and they were talking like old friends. Tormund, who was already heading to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, had explained his position on Esther very clearly and very loudly, she’d made quite an impression on the man and Jon respected his opinion. She’d made quite an impression on lots of the people at Winterfell.

He also knew Esther hadn’t stopped working since she’d arrived; many people were sick or injured and the maesters were few and far between and when the news of a Moontide Sister had spread there’d been a steady stream of patients for Esther from morning until well into the night, she never turned any of them away. 

“I think you’ve made up your mind to go and you’re a Stark so it’d be pointless to try and change it,” she said ruefully.

“I want your opinion,” Jon said and Esther relented.

“I’ve not met Daenerys Targaryen but I’ve heard the stories about her being the Mother of Dragons and freeing the slaves in Mereen, burning the Masters, having the largest Dothraki Horde following her. She could’ve invaded King’s Landing and beaten the Lannisters 10 times over but she hasn’t because she doesn’t want to kill the ordinary people. Tyrion Lannister, who’s no fool, is her Hand…perhaps she is different to all the others who’ve gone before her.”

“And perhaps she isn’t,” Jon said.

“It’s not a coincidence that 3 dragons came into this world just as the Night King and his army are marching South. It’s also not a coincidence that you and she are in position to fight him at the same time…” Esther paused, how could she tell him about the ineffable plan and his part in it?

“Jon, listen carefully…there is a tapestry that’s been woven over thousands of years and it’s near completion…now, some threads can be changed or broken or cut but others have to stay the same or the whole picture will unravel…this meeting feels like a thread that HAS to be sewn. It won’t be easy and I might be wrong but this meeting feels…important.”

She watched her nephew try to understand what she was saying, his lower lip pouted and his brow furrowed in thought…she’d seen that expression a hundred times when she was a child…and then she saw it…she couldn’t believe she’d missed it…he was a mirror image. Another thread was finally stitched into place.

“Do you know what?” she said suddenly and Jon looked up, a little startled, “Who gives a fuck about destiny or ineffable plans or damn tapestries? Daenerys Targaryen has 3 huge fucking dragons and a bloody great army, if you can persuade her to help us fight this war then we might have a chance of winning…to me, that’s worth a turn of the cards…so go and hear what she has to say and if you don’t like it…well, you can come home and we’ll do it on our own.”

He stared at her in shock and then gave her a startling smile that made him look so much younger.

“You’re not like father…or Uncle Benjen,” he said.

“No, I’m not, I never was. In fact, my father used to joke that I must be a bastard as he couldn’t believe a child like me had come from him. I loved my father and brothers…in my own way…but they were stupid.” Jon looked shocked, “they were and it got them killed...they were dogged and blinkered and about as flexible as a rock…they could only think in straight lines in a world of circles…you must be more flexible or we’ve lost. I know you’ve never felt comfortable in this world…neither have I…but we do what must be done for the sake of others…it’s who we are…and it’s an absolute cunt,” she finished and she was rewarded with another smile.

“Will you come with me?” he asked and her heart broke for him, he was still so young.

“Yes…but I’m warning you now, I’m a terrible sailor,” she rolled a cigarette and checked on the glass tube of juice.

“Esther…do…do you know who my mother was?” Jon asked without looking at her. Esther closed her eyes and lied to him for the first time.

“No, my love, I don’t, I’m sorry. I left before you were born,” Jon nodded but couldn’t hide his disappointment. 

The vomiting started the moment she set foot on the boat that would take them to Dragonstone. Davos did his best to look after her but to no avail, in the end she drank some Draumazur Milk and slept like the dead.

As the rowing boat beached at Dragonstone and they came ashore, Esther felt a pricking in her thumbs and knew histories were converging once again.

In the North, the Night King tasted the air. The Shard Witch had placed her finger on the balance and it was tipping…he knew what he needed to do now. Raising his ice spear, his army began to move again towards the South…always towards the South.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So it's all over for a long time...too long. Lots of spoilers for season 7. Please let me know what you think and thank you for reading.

The waves beat against the rocks of the island as the small group walked up the beach towards the greeting party. Esther was gratified to see Tyrion and he nodded at her before welcoming Jon as an old friend. It was amicable and pleasant but nobody could ignore the Dothrakhi or their weapons or the fact Missandei asked for their weapons. As they made their way towards the castle, the boat was taken from the beach. They’d arrived but to what…no one was quite sure.

Esther walked along the sea wall behind the others. Jon and Tyrion discussed Sansa and Davos looked about, reacquainting himself with the island. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what she was feeling; there was an element of fear for Jon and the others, there was uncertainty about what they would find in the castle, there was anticipation for this meeting of fire and ice but there was also…something else.

Just as they approached the first set of steps a huge roar came from above. One of Daenerys’ dragons swooped low overhead and out over the island. Jon and Davos threw themselves flat on the floor, shocked and dazed…as one should be at the sight of a fully-grown dragon. Tyrion helped Jon to his feet with a sympathetic understanding.

“I’d say you get used to them…but you never really do,” he said ruefully. Davos looked behind him to check on Esther.

She was not on the ground, she was not frightened and she was not being quiet.

“A dragon!” she yelled in delight, so loudly that the two Dothrakhi accompanying them jumped back, startled, and went to draw their swords, Missandei looked aghast, “a fucking dragon! He flew so low I could’ve touched him!” She looked around at the others, her face lit up with pure glee.

“Will he come back?” she demanded of Missandei and then leaned as far as she could over the wall to try and see it again. She then spotted all three diving over the castle.

“There’s all three of them…three dragons…they’re the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen!” she shouted, leaning so far over one of the Dothrakhi grabbed the back of her shirt and pulled her away for fear she’d fall.

Jon didn’t know what surprised him more – the dragon or his normally so self-possessed aunt literally jumping up and down with excitement.

“Perhaps some of us are more suited to wondrous things than others,” commented Tyrion drily. 

Esther had already informed Jon she would not be with him when he met Daenerys…this was a political meeting as well as an unbreakable thread, they would forge their own ties without her steering it. She followed her nose through the castle until she came to the kitchens. In her long experience, if you wanted to get to the truth of place, the kitchens were the best place to start.

Night came to Dragonstone quickly, Esther was shown to her room by one of her new friends and she wrapped herself in her warmest cloak, curling up in a chair by the roaring fire. It’d been a very interesting day, she’d learned everything she needed and had heard about the potentially devastating Greyjoy attack…poor Tyrion, he’d hate he didn’t predict that.

Her door opened and the fire twisted.

“Close the bloody door will you,” Esther snapped, “this is the draughtiest castle I’ve ever known.”  
“I apologise,” came a quiet voice and Esther peered round the back of the chair to see the Dragon Queen standing in front of the closed door. 

Esther scrambled to her feet and gave a low bow.

“Your Grace…I’m sorry…clearly I didn’t know it was you or I’d never’ve spoken so…”

“Sharply?” The Unburnt Queen finished for her, Esther raised her eyes and met the cool grey of Daenerys Targaryen.

“May I sit?” Daenerys asked and Esther gestured to the other chair and sat opposite her waiting for her to speak.

“I hear you had a difficult journey to Dragonstone?” Daenerys said after a long moment.

“I did,” agreed Esther, “but not as difficult as yours I think,” and Daenerys gave a faint smile.

There was another pause.

“Missandei tells me you have been speaking with my people?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Esther replied, “I spoke to a young lad called Black Rat and some of his companions.”

“And what did you learn?” Daenerys asked, still staring at the fire.

“Black Rat’s a wonderful artist, he’s made some sketches of the island, they’re beautiful, one of his friends, Red Flea, can run incredibly fast…never seen such a speedy boy. I also met a Dothrakhi chap called Athrak who was telling me about the Great Grass Sea which sounds far better than an actual sea…he also told me a Dothrakhi joke but it lost a little in translation.” 

“You got an Unsullied to talk to you and Athrak to tell you a joke?” Daenerys was utterly incredulous but Esther nodded.

“Of course, then Athrak ruined it slightly, wanting to buy me from my husband for 100 horses and couldn’t believe I wasn’t married.” Esther said with a smile.

“100 horses is a good price,” said Daenerys and elicited a laugh from this woman who seemed to have had such an effect on her people already but she certainly didn’t trust her.

“Missandei also tells me you’re a witch,” Daenerys’ tone was sharp and Esther could understand why.

“I am,” she replied and Daenerys became like stone.

“Your Grace…you have no reason to trust me and, conversely, I have no reason to trust you but what I am isn’t all I am.”

Daenerys continued to stare at the fire.

“You think I don’t know the people who follow me,” she said, “that I will send them into battle for my cause without a second thought…that’s why you talked of Black Rat and Athrak.” 

Esther was pleased to see Daenerys was clever, she nodded her acknowledgment.

“I believe your motivations are the right ones. You have the potential to be a good ruler but I’m not sure you do know ‘The People’,” Esther saw the look of anger on Daenerys’ face but continued, “please, I don’t mean to insult you but I doubt anyone will say what I will to your face,” she took a deep breath and carried on, “the myth of ‘The People’ is exactly that…a myth. You think they really care who sits on the Iron Throne, you think they actively want you? Most people don’t know what they want, and if they did…they wouldn’t know what to do with it once they got it; they’re too busy working, or feeding their families, or arguing with their neighbours, or shouting at their children, or fixing their roof, or caring for their elderly parents. As long as they’re not going to be murdered in their beds any time soon and they can seek fair justice should they need it, they don’t have any strong feelings either way. We’re children…scared of the dark, scared of being blamed, scared of making decisions so we invent things like Queens and Lords and rules and punishments to take away the responsibility. When you take the Iron Throne, are you ready to be mother to millions of petulant children?”

Daenerys looked uncomfortable but she didn’t stop Esther.

“I’ve never had children but I’ve seen just about everything that can happen; can you manage the vast and varied pettiness of human nature?” Esther stared hard at the young woman sitting in front of her.

Daenerys was half tempted to call her guards and have this arrogant witch dragged away but she was wiser than that.

“Perhaps you should become my Hand.” Daenerys said and Esther laughed again.

“I wouldn’t last the day…you’d have me thrown into the sea,” and it was Daenerys’ turn to smile.

“You are…different,” she said and Esther nodded.

“I know…please don’t think I’m one of those terrible ‘I speaks as I find’ people who confuse honesty with rudeness…I respect you…and your people truly love you which means more than any name.” Daenerys raised her eyebrows.

“I don’t believe in someone’s right to rule just because of their family name, all that means is their great great great grandfather was a bigger vicious bastard than someone else’s or someone took an arrow in the eye in a swamp centuries ago and their place was taken. Who rules is often just the luck of birth and no guarantee of talent…you could be different…I hope you are.”

“Thank you,” said Daenerys quietly.

“Why did you visit me? I know you suffered a…complication today.” asked Esther and reached for her tobacco pouch, “may I smoke Your Grace?” Daenerys nodded and was fascinated by the deft way she rolled the cigarette.

“Missandei said my dragons didn’t scare you,” she answered.

“They are utterly beautiful,” Esther said.

“They are my children,” Daenerys said and Esther nodded, “that doesn’t surprise you?”

“No. I was created thousands of years ago and saw most of history in a dream that lasted 730 days, I’ve brought people back from the dead and experienced the Night King. I’ve also brought hundreds of babies into the world and ushered more out. I once treated a man with testicles so swollen, he had to put them in a wheel barrow just to walk to the privy; 3 dragons are marvellous not surprising,” and she blew out a stream of smoke.

For the first time in a very long time Daenerys Targaryen laughed.

Although they were free to roam the island, it was clear they couldn’t leave but permission had been granted to mine the dragonglass. Esther spent a little time with Varys, a little more time with Tyrion and was slowly getting to know her nephew. Tensions were high for everyone so she tried to keep a low profile.

Jon showed her the cave paintings after Daenerys had seen them, after that she rarely left the cave. They were intricate and inscrutable but she slowly unpicked their meaning…a history of the Long Night and the truce between the First Men and the Children.

Jon refused the bend the knee.

When the raven from Bran arrived about the Night King, she joined the others. Esther could see the burgeoning feelings Jon and Daenerys had for each other and stored it away for later thought. 

Arya was at Winterfell, she never doubted her niece would survive.

Varys tried to convince them the Wall could hold back the Night King.

“The Wall won’t hold him for long, if he can’t go over it, he’ll freeze the sea and go around it,” she said as the others looked at her as if seeing her for the first time, Jon nodded.

 

The discussion went back and forth until Tyrion suggested brining the dead to Cersei. Everyone went quiet. 

“Is that possible?” asked Davos.

“It’s possible,” replied Esther and Jon nodded.

Varys pointed out this would be futile if Cersei didn’t grant them an audience so Tyrion made a plan to go to Kings Landing and meet with Jaime.

She stood on the headland and watched Davos sail towards the capital as Rhaegar flew overhead. 

She was finally going to go beyond The Wall.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's talk of season 8 not being shown until 2019...completely unacceptable. Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think.

Davos returned with Tyrion still intact and a young man in tow. Preparations were being made for their journey North and the shore was lined with crates, provisions and more bloody boats. Esther sighed and tried to appreciate the steady ground beneath her feet one last time.

Walking back through the castle, she met Davos.

“I’m glad you made it back,” she said and he grimaced.

“Mistress, are you sure you want to go beyond The Wall? I know you think you’re…invincible but you’ve never seen it out there, I have and it scared the shit out of me,” the note of desperation in his voice touched Esther; she sighed and then smiled.

“You know I’m a Moontide Sister?” and he nodded, “well…the convent of my Order is a very well kept secret,” she paused and he nodded again, “my convent is on Skane.”

“Bloody hell,” he exclaimed and she smiled.

“I take from that you know where Skane is. I spent my formative years on an island that is practically level with the Fist of the First...the Winter Lands don’t hold any fear for me.”

“Well they should,” Davos said, “You don’t have to go. Jon and the others will do just as well without you. Come to Eastwatch and stay there with me until they get back.”

“I’m going precisely because they won’t do as well without me. I’m going because I have to.”

Davos shook his head, he’d been around long enough to know a reckless streak when he saw it.

“Who was the boy you brought back from the city?” she asked.

“He’s Robert Baratheon’s bastard, name’s Gendry…he’s a good lad.”

“I know him…I met him on the King’s Road with Arya, he wanted to join the Brotherhood without Banners,” she said, turning to him sharply, “how do you know him?”

“The Red Priestess wanted to burn him as a sacrifice to the Lord of Light,” Davos said, without meeting her eye.

“You saved him,” she realised and Davos looked embarrassed.

“I just put him in a boat before she could do anything.”

Esther narrowed her eyes at him, “you’re a good man Davos Seaworth.”

The beach was a hive of activity when she made her way down. Daenerys arrived and spoke with Jorah Mormont and Tyrion came to her.

“Make sure you come back Esther,” he said with a look she remembered from across the years.

“I will,” she said.

“I believe you. Nevertheless, take care…the world wouldn’t be the same without you.” She held him close and then made her way to the boats without looking back.

Jon said his goodbyes to Daenerys and got in the boat, Esther took a deep breath and went to the tide’s edge.

“Will we meet again, Mistress Stark?” asked The Queen.

“I hope so Your Grace,” she replied.

“So do I,” Daenerys said and Esther nodded.

Heaving the boat into the water, they headed to the ship taking them to Eastwatch and beyond.

The wind blew cold and cruel over the deck as Esther leant against the mizzen trying not to throw up again.

“Are you all right?” Jon asked.

“No but I’ll survive,” she answered.

“Thank you,” he said.  
“For what?” she asked, wiping her mouth and feeling a wave of nausea.

“For going with us…me.” Jon was uncomfortable.

“I’m going because it needs to be done…will you be saying the same to Mormont?” she snapped, Jon looked hurt.

“No, but…I thought…” he began but Esther interrupted him.

“You thought because I’m a woman you need to treat me differently. That stops now…I’m older than you, wiser than you and…and…” Esther threw up over Jon’s boots.

“Yeah, I can see that,” he said drily and helped her to the rail where she continued to throw up.

As dawn approached she staggered into the galley. Gendry was there spooning up porridge.

“I know you…you were with the Brotherhood...you’re Arya’s aunt,” Esther nodded and sat down heavily, “why are you here?”

“A long and complicated series of events just like you,” she muttered.

“Well I’m glad to see you,” he said cheerfully but she could only grimace.

The Wall was as huge and intimidating as Esther had been told. They made their way up the beach and climbed the wooden ladders to the castle. She felt the reassuring thump of her tobacco rolls against her thigh.

They sat in the dining hall and Tormund tried to understand Jon’s plan.

“How many men did you bring?” he asked and Jon looked around the table rather sheepishly.

“Not enough,” he said.

“The big woman?” asked Tormund hopefully only to have them dashed when Jon shook his head.

“But you brought this one?” Tormund said indicating to Esther.

“Yes,” Jon said.

“Good enough,” shrugged Tormund and grinned at her.

“You really want to go out there?” he asked and Jon nodded emphatically.

“You’re not the only ones,” he said.  
He lead them down to the cells; Esther felt again like something was converging but she didn’t know what.

“My scouts found them a mile south of the Wall…said they were on their way here.” Tormund stopped outside the bars of the first cell. Esther was behind Davos and couldn’t see the occupants.

She heard Jon say “you’re The Hound…” and the arse fell out of her world. 

Keeping as far behind Davos as she could, she saw The Hound sit up.

“They want to go North of the Wall,” Tormund said and she heard another voice.

“We don’t want to go, our Lord told us a great war is coming,” so Beric was there as well.

Gendry was, understandably, distrustful of the Brotherhood members in the cell.

“Thoros?” asked an incredulous Jorah…marvellous, that bloody Red Priest completed the group. Fuck’s sake.

Once Tormund learnt Jorah was a Mormont, another layer of tension was added to an already difficult first meeting.

Beric began to spout religious nonsense and no one had yet noticed Esther.

“For fuck’s sake will you shut your hole? Are we coming with you or not?” barked The Hound.

Jon made the decision to join with them and Tormund handed him the cell door keys.

“Mistress Stark, it’s good to see you again,” Esther’s eyes closed, fucking Thoros of fucking Myr. The Hound twisted sharply as she emerged from the shadows. Without meeting his eye, she submitted to their stares.

“Red Priest,” she acknowledged reluctantly.

“Where have you been? The last we saw of you was a trail of broken branches in the forest,” he said.

“Your Lord of Light was giving me indigestion,” she snapped.

“The years haven’t changed you,” he commented, “got anything to drink?”

“You know them?” Jon asked.

“We’ve met,” she deadpanned, “they’ll be useful.” Thoros nodded his thanks.

She was right there, standing in front of him after fucking years. He’d thought she had to be dead or still on that fucking island…but here she was at the end of the world…completely unchanged as if she’d been frozen in time. Clegane didn’t have the words to speak, couldn’t even come close to speaking.

The strange and mismatched group made their way up to the fire where the Brotherhood huddled round it for warmth. Esther rifled through her pack and found a flask of firemead. She thrust it at Thoros, who took it gratefully and drank deeply until The Hound grabbed it off him.

“We need to get to a mountain that looks like an arrowhead,” Beric said.

“How’d you know?” Jorah asked.

“He had a vision,” Thoros said, tilting his head towards The Hound; Esther choked on the mouthful of Firemead.

“He did?” she asked with palpable disbelief and Beric nodded.

“The Lord of Light spoke to him in the fire,”

“Well…fuck,” was all that Esther could manage and Jon gave her a confused look but she didn’t elaborate.

As they began to make plans for their journey, Esther rolled a cigarette and, without thinking, lit it with magic. Jorah inhaled sharply and she looked up.

“She’s a witch,” bellowed Tormund, “but don’t worry Mormont, she’s on our side,” and grinned at his discomfort.

They were to leave at first light. Bedding down in the hall as few of the rooms were habitable, she chose a space as far away from The Hound as possible, he hadn’t even looked in her direction and she was grateful, they needed no distractions. The room was soon filled with the flatulent snores of 7 men, she couldn’t sleep. 

Finally giving up, she wandered out into the snow battered darkness. Sheltering in the lee of the Wall, she rolled a cigarette.

“Mistress,” Thoros sat down beside her.

“Fuck’s sake, I just want to smoke in peace. Go and get some sleep, even your Lord of Light won’t save you if you make a mistake out there,” she snapped.

Thoros gently took the cigarette from between her fingers and took a long drag, passing it back to her.

“My god told me to come here…what’s your excuse?” he asked.  
“Your god isn’t the only one with a stake in this war,” she said.

“Clegane told us about you...the convent…your sleep. What did you see?” he didn’t look at her but took the cigarette again.

“Everything,” she replied, “I saw everything…the entire history of this world from the time of The Children right up to now.”

“But not beyond?” he asked with quiet relentlessness.

“Bits and pieces but nothing’s clear yet,” frustration in her voice.

“So, you are the balance between Light and Dark…a rather large responsibility,” he gave her a crooked smile.

“Luckily, I’m unburdened by religion or duty,” she answered and he laughed.

“He nearly died, you know?” Thoros prodded gently, not wishing to stir the fire too much.

“Yes, I do know,” Esther rolled another cigarette.

“He’s changed. He wants redemption. You nearly killed him.” Thoros could feel the proverbial ice creaking underneath him.

“For fuck’s sake why are YOU saying this to me? None of this matters, we’re about to travel through the Winter Lands to capture an undead wight to take back to King’s Landing to present it to a woman with a greater capacity for violence as I’ve ever seen. This isn’t some damn folk song about lost fucking love,” she turned to face him and Thoros backed away, “why the fuck do you care anyway?”

“You are very beautiful,” Thoros said quietly and for a long moment Esther had no idea what to say.

“What?” she said, finally.

“You’re very beautiful…and you’re clever; an ancient power awakened for the Long Night. You’re also full-blooded, hot-tempered, cruel, empathetic and passionate…demon, goddess and completely human…if I thought I’d lost you, I’d have wanted to die too.” Thoros said this with no trace of embarrassment but, rather, as a simple statement of fact. Esther shook her head at the stupidity of men.

“Thank you…I suppose…but this has absolutely no bearing on what we are about to do. Is this your way of trying to make me stay here?”

“Fuck no,” Thoros said, “I’d prefer you had my back than a hundred soldiers. I just wanted you to know.”  
“For fuck’s sake…I really hope you’re drunk,” Esther said, defeated by the strange conversation, “go back inside and get warm…we’ve a long way to go tomorrow.”

Thoros stood up, shaking off the snow.

“Are you coming in? It’s getting colder,” he asked but she shook her head.

“I don’t feel the cold,” she said but missed Thoros’ look of concern.

The huge gate creaked open and they walked out into the blizzard, none of them looked back as it closed behind them.

They’d walked about half a mile but the blizzard was getting worse, the horizontal wind whipped up the snow, chipping away at any exposed skin. Jon halted the party, Jorah and Gendry took the opportunity to catch their breath.

“Can you do something about this?” Jon shouted at Esther.

Although she’d never admit it, she had no idea if she could do anything but she tried, they wouldn’t get much further in this otherwise. Pushing her hood down, she turned into the gale and closed her eyes. Her hair stood out like a comet in the white.

She saw the storm stretching far away to the North but in her mind, she conjured a warm zephyr like those that caressed her island in Summer. It swept over the storm, dispersing it until there was nothing but a crystal blue sky streaked with white clouds above them. Opening her eyes, she blinked and saw the same blue above their group, no blizzard, no gale, just icy diamond ground streaked with black rock.

“How the fuck did you do that?” gaped Tormund.

“Magic,” she grinned and took the lead.

“Did you know she could do that?” asked Jorah to Jon as she walked away.

“No,” he replied, “I didn’t.”


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s taken me a while (and lots of re-watching) to return to this story but I’m glad I have. I’ve also shamelessly stolen and copied from season 7...I don’t care. Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think.

They trudged through the frozen wasteland, breaking into small groups then reforming into others. Esther didn’t walk with anyone else, she was aware that the men needed find their way with each other…without the potentially confusing addition of a woman. There was also the ever present shadow of The Hound.

Following Jon, Tormund and Gendry, she listened to their conversation.

“How do you live up here? How’d you keep your balls from freezing off?” asked Gendry.

“You have to keep moving, that’s the secret. Walking’s good, fighting’s better, fucking’s best.” Tormund answered.

“There’s not a living woman within a hundred miles of here,” said Jon.

“We have to make do with what we’ve got,” Tormund said, grinning at Gendry who looked very, very uncomfortable and fell back. 

“Well fuck you,” Esther said amiably and Tormund roared with laughter.

She found herself walking next to Jorah Mormont. Despite being a Northman, it was clear Jorah disliked the cold. He caught her staring at him and grimaced.

“I’ve grown accustomed to the warmth of the south,” he said and she smiled.

“I always found the heat oppressive but I confess I’d forgotten how cold it could get; we’ve grown soft during the Summer,” she said ruefully and he nodded.

“You used to play with my sister Maege,” he said after a pause and she smiled, “my mother would often despair at the bad habits she came back with. Your…gifts…were never spoken of.”

Esther nodded, “Ned sent me away because of them when I was young…still, I suppose it was better than condemning me to execution,” she finished wryly.

“I deserved it,” Jorah answered.

“I’ve seen what you’ve done for Daenerys…you were one of the first to really see her and you’ve never wavered…perhaps you don’t deserve it anymore,” he stopped as she walked on and stared at her back, there went a very interesting woman. Jon took the opportunity to talk to Jorah as the others passed them.

They walked on into the painfully silver land, gradually getting used to the cold and each other. 

Gendry joined Beric’s group with Thoros and Clegane to confront them about selling him to the Red Witch.

“A priestess,” corrected Thoros, who then added, “I’ll admit it is a subtle distinction.”

“…do you know what she did to me?” an outraged Gendry asked, “she strapped me down on a bed, she stripped me naked…”

“Sounds all right so far,” interrupted The Hound and Esther gave an inward smile, men were so predictable.

“…and put leeches on me.” Gendry finished.

“Was she naked too?” asked The Hound and Esther had to take a deep breath of cold air and bite her tongue, now was not an opportune time to give these men a lesson in respect.

“She needed your blood,” commented Thoros.

“Yes thank you I know that,” Gendry snapped.

She shook her head knowing full well these men had been around the harbour many more times than Gendry and his whingeing was utterly futile. The Hound confirmed this a moment later.

“Your lips are moving and you’re complaining about something, that’s whingeing,” he mocked and gestured towards Beric, “this one’s been killed six times but you don’t hear him bitching about it,” and stomped off, she couldn’t help laughing but tried to keep it quiet.

“You’re getting there my lad, you’re getting there,” she said and slapped him on the back, he gave her a pleading look and she tried to give him an encouraging smile.

She saw Jon try to give Jorah Longclaw and was pleased when he refused to take it; it had the right owner, another thread that couldn’t be cut. 

The lengthening shadows turned the ice a sapphire blue tipped with gold.

Esther took a turn helping to pull the sled; Jon had looked unconvinced but soon backed down when it was clear she was more capable than Thoros or Gendry. 

The Hound stopped to retie his boot straps so Tormund took the opportunity to pull at his tail.

“You’re the one they call the dog,” he said with a grin.

“Fuck off,” The Hound growled.

“They told me you were mean,” Tormund said apparently not hearing him, “were you born mean or do you just hate Wildlings?”

“I couldn’t give two shits about Wildlings,” The Hound said, attempting to stare out the fucking annoying Wildling, “it’s gingers I hate.” The bloody bastard just laughed.

“Gingers are beautiful, we are kissed by fire,” Tormund said and jerked his head in Esther’s direction, who was laughing with the others.

Clegane’s stomach twisted; ‘kissed by fire’ that’s what she was…he’d felt that fire and then lost it…it’d been like losing a part of his soul, now he was so close again and he couldn’t even look at her.

“Just like you,” Tormund said pointing at his face.

“Don’t point your fucking figure at me,” he growled, batting away Tormund’s hand and he walked away. Tormund just smiled and walked with him, this was too much fun.

“Just like her…” he said, pointing at Esther a little way off. The Hound growled and Tormund stopped for a moment, he was brave but not that brave.

“Did you trip into the fire when you were a baby?” he asked.

“I didn’t trip…I was pushed,” Clegane answered, hoping against hope this would fucking end it.

“Ever since you’ve been mean.”

“Will you fuck off,” The Hound rasped, half threatening half begging the ginger wanker.

“I don’t think you’re truly mean,” Tormund continued, apparently oblivious, “you have sad eyes.”

Esther witnessed this exchange and found herself, yet again, marvelling at men’s ability to measure their cocks even when swaddled under layers of clothes in the arse end of a frozen hell on their way, in all likelihood, to a cold and lonely end.

“Do you want to suck my dick? Is that it?” The Hound said in a last-ditch attempt to get rid of the cunt.

“No,” said Tormund, conversationally, “it’s pussy for me. I have a beauty waiting for me back at Winterfell…if I ever get back there…yellow hair, blue eyes, tallest woman you’ve ever seen, almost as tall as you.”

The Hound stopped and turned sharply to face the mad fuck.

“Brienne of Tarth?” he asked.

“You know her?” Tormund asked hopefully.

“You’re with Brienne of fucking Tarth?”

“Well…not with her yet,” said Tormund, keen to be truthful, “but I see the way she looks at me.”

“How does she look at you? Like she wants to carve you up and eat your liver?” The Hound said, looking down at Tormund and almost feeling pity for him; he’d had first-hand experience of Brienne and she’d nearly been the death of him.

“You do know her,” the Wildling said.

“We’ve met,” deadpanned The Hound and began walking again but Tormund still continued the conversation much to his irritation.

“I want to make babies with her…think of them, great big monsters…they’d conquer the world,” Tormund said imagining these children and being filled with pride and awe all over again.

“How did a mad fucker like you live this long?” The Hound asked rhetorically and Tormund, having no concept of rhetoric, replied, “I’m good at killing people.”

Esther gratefully handed over the sled rope to the Wilding and stretched her back out to its original shape.

“Are you the reason he has sad eyes?” a voice asked and she turned to see Tormund grinning at her.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said dismissively.

“I think you are,” Tormund said, pleased to have guessed correctly, “what happened, did you break his heart?”

“What if he broke mine?” she asked.

“Noooo,” Tormund said, “you wouldn’t let your heart get broken, you’re too clever.”

“Not that clever,” she said ruefully, “I came out here with you lot.”

“The more I see you, the more I think we came out here with you,” he said and she smiled at him.

“How long has he been in love with you?” Tormund asked with no regard for his personal safety. Esther stopped and put her hand on his arm.

“Tormund, I like you…which is why I’m telling you…stop talking…now,” she said kindly.

The Hound saw this gesture and growled, Gendry looked up, scared, but he didn’t say anything else.

The miles flowed behind them as the sky clouded over and the temperature dropped even further. Esther trudged along, half listening to the chatter of men. She let her mind wander back to the distant past and then to what her nieces and nephew might be doing back at Winterfell.

“He wants Brienne of Tarth.”

A familiar voice broke her reverie. She turned to see The Hound walking beside her but staring at the horizon. She felt her skin tighten and flush even in the freezing temperatures.

“Who?” she asked with a voice far steadier than she felt.

“That ginger Wildling,” he answered in the same tone.

“I know,” she said, genuinely puzzled.

“I thought you and him might be…” he finished lamely.

“You thought wrong,” she said and he nodded to himself.

“Why are you with the Brotherhood?” she asked, after a beat of silence.

“I…I met a man who made me realise there’s more to life than killing,” he said quietly.

“Even though killing is the sweetest thing?” she asked sharply, echoing his words to Bronn from years before. He didn’t look at her but she could tell she’d stung him.

“So this realisation lead you back to the Brotherhood? And this man whom you met, who thought it better to build a Sept rather than fortifications to protect his followers…his words are what lead you to seek redemption…what lead you to look into the fire and accept the Lord of Light’s visions? This man whose corpse ended up swinging from the struts of his own creation? Did he keep his faith when all his people were being slaughtered, I wonder?” She knew she should stop but now she’d started the words flowed like blood from a wound, “and where were you when your redeemer was gasping for air, clawing at his throat, dying above the dead? You weren’t there…just like you weren’t there for Arya…”

“She left me…she wouldn’t kill me so she left me to die slowly…” but Esther talked over him.

“Just like you weren’t there for Sansa…you left her knowing what she would have to face…”

He opened his mouth to speak but then she delivered the killing blow.

“And you weren’t there when I woke up.”

Clegane stopped and Esther carried on walking. 

Snow began to fall, obscuring their footprints as the distance between the witch and The Hound grew.


End file.
